


Second Chance

by spiritsl



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cyberverse
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Healing, Medical Procedures, Near Death Experiences, Slow Burn, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2020-10-29 18:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritsl/pseuds/spiritsl
Summary: A miss of a few inches can make all the difference in the world, and allow a new life in the place of death.





	1. Near Miss

**Author's Note:**

> I intend to corner the Market on Slipstream survival Fics, with this one going a lady loving route because I like to have options in my life. Tags will be added as the story progresses, and the rating may go up as a result.

The sword entering her back felt less like the stabbing, burning pain she'd always remembered with blades and more like a concussive blast striking her between the wings, driving the air from her vents in a rush and making her gasp to try and replace it. The pain only hit when it was wrenched free, sending an electrical storm of agony across her neural net that arced in visible jolts from the severed connections in her now gaping wound. Her knees gave out in moments. The world spun as she collapsed to the ground, far off noises like shouts and laser fire barely registering as she hit the cold earth. Nothing but her pain was tangible enough to be real.

There was a faint realization in the back of her brain module; that this wasn't something she could survive. Hot energon was already flowing freely from the wound, running down her armor like warm solvent in a shower. Electric signals were still sparking from the injuries, making her twitch as her body tried and failed to reroute the circuitry and minimize burn damage. It was all for naught. She could already feel things shutting down, her vision and hearing growing blurred as her body failed to maintain even the simplest of its systems. Were she capable, she'd have screamed at the unfairness of it all. She'd been so very _close_, her desperate bid to prevent genocide cut short after only managing a few sentences of warning to Windblade, an Autobot, of all things. And where was she now? Would her former enemy even believe her now, and pass on the information?

There was a hand on her shoulder, this time gentle but foreign, and she tried desperately to turn her helm and see. If anybot could still hear her while she had a voice, they had to know. Starscream couldn't be allowed to destroy everything.

Yellow armor with black spots came into view as she was turned on her back, the motion bringing so much pain she actually managed a scream over the din of far off battle. Bots were fighting now, but over what?! Hadn't Windblade told them there was something greater than their war? She had to tell this bot then, even if it took all the strength she had left. The Allspark wouldn't take her until she was certain its new handler would get what was coming to him.

"Please..." She coughed, gagging as the taste of bled energon filled her mouth. A great fit seized her body, racking her with coughs that desperately tried to clear the energon from her ventways and succeeded only in further agonizing her wound. The strange mech put a hand on her chest, encouraging her to be still. Through blurry optics, she saw a blue face with green optics, the strange mech looking down on her with a calming smile.

"You are injured. I can get you help, if you save your strength." He said in a soothing voice, his other hand supporting her helm. Despite the pain, she tried to speak again, only succeeding in a cough that left a disturbing amount of her own energon running down her chin. Didn't this idiot understand? She _had_ to talk, no one could help her now. She'd be dying at any minute, and if she couldn't speak the full truth, it would die with her. He hushed her this time, and she didn't have the strength to try again. Bluster aside, it'd be nice not to go out alone... Being a Decepticon meant she'd always thought she would.

A great explosion made her try and look around, the shockwaves clearing her helm a bit. Where was Windblade? The femme was the only one she'd managed to say anything to, and she'd at least _appeared_ to have been listening. If she died in this fight, then everything would truly have been for nothing.

"Please, remain still..." The strange mech encouraged, speaking over the haggard and gurgling sounds that had become her ventilations. Rolling her optics to look at him, it suddenly occurred to her that she was very cold, and the hot energon that had been pouring from her wound no longer seemed to be doing so. A part of her still knew that was very bad, and gave her even less time than she'd thought. Looking to the sky, she tried took keep her brain module on task, suddenly finding herself quite dizzy. Spots swam in her vision beside the stars. Nothing seemed to be coherent any longer, least of all what she still needed to accomplish. She barely registered the distant blast of a ships takeoff, or the approaching footsteps that encouraged her caretaker to speak again.

"Her spark is not yet gone, she can still be saved!"

"She's a Con, so what?" Another voice spat, and she tried to roll her optics to get a look. Three blurry figures stood over her in the darkness, so familiar yet impossible to place. Except for the last one; such an annoying shade of red... And then it hit her, Windblade! She was here! There was still a chance. Despite everything, she tried to speak again, only succeeding in more coughs and a trembling lift of her undamaged arm. The other femme came to her, kneeling down close enough that Slipstream could see her clearly. Unable to form words, the Decepticon Seeker was left to beg with her optics, her desperation and pleading plain even amongst the pain on her face.

"She came to us with information about Starscream. We're not leaving her like this." Windblade said, hand going to her comm link and face unreadable. "Ratchet, we've got a casualty coming in. Prep everything you need for an impalement to the back." There was something like a mix of proffesionalism and disbelief from the other end, which she only cut off and turned to the other two mechs. "Bee, Hot Rod, get a medical slab. We're carrying her in ourselves."

Slipstream was certain at that moment she must have lost her mind due to the injuries. There was no way her mortal enemy was ordering her rescue, least of all carrying it out herself. She must truly have been at the edge of the Allspark, preparing to drop in at any moment. The thought was far from comforting. Her spark would be followed by a wave of others, Decepticon and Autobot alike, if her warning was not heeded. She couldn't die not knowing if her work was done. Desperate, she made a bid to lift her arm to try and reach out for communication, and instead the movement only sent a fire through her damaged neural net. Screaming at the pain, she once again gave a full body tremor, coming down from the agony to discover two pairs of hands on her this time.

"Stay still, don't try to move. You're gonna make it." Windblade encouraged, doing little to soothe her fears. Typical Autobot fantasies, of course she wasn't going to make it. She was bleeding out everything she had and short curcuiting all her critical systems. There'd be no surviving this. At her look of disbelief, the Autobot leaned in, giving her good arm a squeeze of encouragement and a challenging smile. "You and I are going to tell everyone everything."

That brought more comfort than any medic ever could have. Windblade had listened to her, heeded her call, and could share what she'd told her with all the remaining members of their kind. Starscream would be taking no one by surprise. It was all she needed to know, and the fight within her faded like the rest of her strength. As the world began to fade and she submitted to the exhaustion dragging her under, the last thing she was aware of was a voice on the edge of her mind.

"Hey, hey, stay with me okay? You've gotta stay-"

She was certain the next thing she'd feel would be a reunion with the Allspark. Letting herself drift, she became faintly aware of a feeling like flying through rough skies, as well as a total absence of time. Whether she was out for minutes or hours didn't register, and she didn't care to find out. What good was time when you were dead? It was only when she felt a tug, somewhat akin to a magnetic pull, that she started to pay attention again.

The first thing that came to her was pain, specifically a sharp, stinging heat in her damaged arm, and it alarmed her. Wasn't the Allspark supposed to be free of pain? Had she done something to earn its ire, and was instead being forced to the eternal torture of the Pit? That was only supposed to be a story! But the agony that was growing over every inch of her being was very much real. It contorted her in anguish, her suddenly perceptible limbs fighting against an oppressive binding of torture that grew simultaneously with a burning light in her optics and a rushing in her audials.

"Keep her still. I need her immobile." A gruff voice commanded, hitting her just as she registered a frigid metal slab beneath her. Firm hands were on every one of her limbs, pinning them down as she tried to flail beneath the weight. Her audials were assaulted on every side by the drone of machinery, the hums and sharp beeps threatening to split her already aching brain module down the middle.

"Why not just flip her over? That's where the stab is!" Another voice, the same one that had wanted to leave her before, called out. A sharp fire in her chest and the sound of sparking circuits made her seize up once more, her body out of her control. Nothing was making any sense. She'd been on her way to the Allspark, or the Pit, or whatever, and now she was trapped in her broken body as it was further broken by unknown torturers.

"Spark is closer to the front, so are the energon lines feeding it that got severed. I'd call it lucky. If that sword were just a few inches over, she'd be dead already."

And then she understood. She _wasn't_ dead. Her optics snapped open at the revalation, her mouth opening in a gasp of air to vents that may as well have been melded shut. Hard coughs racked her in a desperate attempt to clear the bled energon, but each one only sent fresh sparks from her broken body and filled the air with the scent of burning circuits. The arms holding her down doubled their weight, keeping her pinned against the berth as she looked about wildly for an explanation.

"She's awake! What do we do?!" Bumblebee cried at her sudden consciousness, clearly having not expected anything more than the reactive jerks he'd been tasked to keep in check. Ratchet only doubled down on his efforts, digging the welder in tight to patch up the major artery that had all but bled dry. No amount of time could be wasted, and nothing major could be done until this line was sealed. All he'd had time to do before going in was get her on an energon drip to try and give her body something to run on.

"Nothing else can happen until I patch these arteries. I just need a few seconds." He explained, keeping his hands steady thanks to eons of practice with not so unconscious bots. Slipstream was doing everything in her very limited power to get away from the fire burning right next to her spark, her energon filled mouth letting out nothing but incoherent begging as she struggled to get away. A shadow eclipsed the surgical light above her, and she found herself staring into two very familiar blue optics.

"Slipstream, you're in our medical bay! You're safe! Ratchet is repairing you." Windblade explained, leaning over the ailing femme as she was wracked by tremors. Slipstream wasn't comforted. Whatever their deranged medic was doing to her hurt worse than the stabbing that had put her here, and she'd been content enough just to die. Being captured by the enemy and butchered back to life was far worse than returning to the Allspark. She'd seen what had become of Shadowstriker, and she had no desire to live out her life as an experiment.

"Got it. One more thing and I put her under." Ratchet announced, removing the welder and tossing it on his tray. Slipstream gasped as the pain became bearable, the fire in her chest dissapearing and leaving her shaking in cold she'd been too preoccupied to notice before. There was a clamor beyond her vision, and the third voice that she only now recognized as Hot Rod spoke up in the troublesome silence that followed.

"Sweet Primus that's a big needle..."

She didn't even have time to think on the threat before something cold as ice pierced her open chest cavity, her entire midsection suddenly feeling like a black hole had opened and was sucking everything out of her. Gasping in a vain attempt to fight the vacuum, she went entirely limp as the horrifying sensation paralyzed her where she lay. Death seemed preferable to this torture. And she was almost certain it was coming. She had to have been lied to, and the medic was just seeking the form of death he thought most fitting for an enemy. It wasn't too far out of line for what a Decepticon may do with an injured prisoner.

"Just a little longer. Then the pain stops." Windblade encouraged, taking up center stage in her visual field. She wanted to beg for it all to end. They may have been enemies, but did she really deserve this? Couldn't someone just take her offline?

With an audible sound, the needle was pulled from her, taking its icy touch with it but leaving her cold as the planet's poles.

"Vents are cleared of energon. I can get to work." Ratchet announced, and she found she could indeed feel air flowing through her ventilation system again. It ached beyond all belief, but at least it worked. There was a clicking sound like a light switch when she felt the IV she hadn't known was in her arm pulse, and something warm and soothing flooded her veins. Every inch of her body lost its agony, and instead she felt like a gentle blanket was being lain over her.

"Anaesthesia is hitting now. Let her go."

The holds on her limbs released, but she didn't struggle. Instead, she felt like she was drifting off into a well earned recharge, and she welcomed it. Windblade was the last thing she saw as her optics drifted shut, her former enemy giving her a relieved smile as her voice echoed into the comforting darkness.

"Just relax. Everything will be alright when you wake up."


	2. Bygones

Even when consciousness was still far away, Slipstream knew that she was somewhere strange. The sensations slowly starting to become available to her were unfamiliar, but not necessarily threatening. A sterile scent and the soft humming and beeping of machines were the first concrete things she could identify, but more of her surroundings slowly took place as awareness replaced unconsciousness. She was lying down on a cool but comfortable berth, her body heavy for reasons she couldn't quite remember. Never the type to delay the inevitable, she cracked her optics open, wincing at a bright light and making a small noise of discomfort. Without hesitation, a pair of footsteps approached at her revival, and she turned her helm to see a very unexpected face.

"Ratchet, Optimus, she's awake." The Autobot commed, standing beside but not over her with an expression she almost thought looked relieved.

"Windblade?" She asked, a little panicked at the sight of her long standing rival. On instinct, she made an effort to rise, only for a burst of pain in her chest to stop her before she'd even managed to move an inch. A cry tore from her throat at the unexpected stab of agony, and she had to grit her dentae to hold back more when the resulting ache failed to subside. Every inch of her upper body felt like it had been dipped in magma. Windblade put a hand on her shoulder, pressing her back down.

"No moving. That surgical mesh wasn't designed for flexibility." She explained, sounding a little worried. Heeding the advice, Slipstream glanced down at herself, able to catch a glimpse of the shiny silver used to seal wounds too large to hold themselves closed. Understanding what had transpired, she let out a small sound of surprise.

"So I survived..." Her whole body ached, but it was still online. And even without medical expertise she knew the patch job was masterfully done. It wasn't something she'd expected, as she lay dying when the wound was fresh, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"You've been out for a few cycles now. Ratchet is sure you'll make a full recovery, but it'll be a while. Think you're well enough to talk?" Windblade asked, keeping her optics conspicuously clear of the sizable wound before her. Despite the casual tone, Slipstream felt herself snap at the question. Time had been short before, but if a few cycles had already passed without anybot doing anything, it may have already been too late.

"Starscream, the bunker, did you listen to what I said-?"

"We already checked. He and your friends were already long gone, as were the Allspark and Vector Sigma." Windblade interrupted with a hand up, looking displeased at the accusatory tone. Slipstream was relieved and effort had at least been made, but was especially disgusted by the clueless Autobots implication. The last time she'd seen the Seekers, they'd been desperate to shoot her down, all to curry favor with their new messiah.

"They were never my friends."

There was a look of surprise on the other femme face, but it was redirected when the doors swung open and hulking footsteps entered. Windblade immediately stood up a little straighter and stepped back from the berth, looking for appropriate for a soldier at attention. Even from her prone position, Slipstream knew only one Autobot could make such an entrance.

"Slipstream, it is good to see that you have awoken." A deep baritone rumbled, making her cringe at the niceties. Hating how vulnerable she felt and ridiculous she looked, Slipstream kept her calm, tilting her helm to keep optics contact as the Prime entered her field of vision. He was close enough to be seen, but at least kept a respectful distance.

"Optimus Prime. A friendly greeting for a prisoner of war." She replied, wanting to clear away the unnecessary air of civility. She wasn't an idiot. Autobot softness aside, they had her wounded and with information they could use, thus making her an ideal captive. No bot would be stupid enough to pretend otherwise. Ratchet stepped forth behind Optimus, grunting at her comment and taking out a scanner.

"You're not a prisoner, you're a patient, and one of the luckiest I've ever had." He commented, running the scan up and down her body. She was a little blindsided by the boldness, and the apparent stupidity of the medic to think she'd buy not being a captive. "Your spark almost took a laser enhanced blade right through the casing, but thankfully Bludgeon didn't check his aim beforehand. The damage is bad, but it's nothing I can't handle. Assuming you're willing to cooperate."

Sighing, she took stock of the limited options she was already aware of. The Decepticons had made it clear she wasn't welcome, and she was in no shape to try and clear the air between them. Striking out on her own was beneath her. It was possible she could try in the future to plead her case to her former leader, ideally with a defeated Starscream to sweeten the deal, but at the moment she was Autobot property. "Megatron doesn't trade for wounded prisoners. I have little choice."

"You came to us with information to stop Starscream. You know we're fighting something bigger than our war." Windblade spoke up, looking at her pointedly. Glaring back, she hated how correct she was, but acquiesced to the truth regardless. Pride didn't help anyone in the face of genocide.

"Yes. He intends to end the fighting, for good."

"Any additional information you can provide would be most helpful. With his present whereabouts unknown, a chance to remove the element of surprise is our greatest hope." Optimus said, his usual politeness still present. At the very least, Slipstream found herself agreeing with the strategy. It was predictable that Starscream would have cut and run, and he would doubtless return for an unpredictable attack. Taking that advantage from him would at the very least hurt his ego, and that often was all it took to get the Seeker Commander riled up enough to do something stupid.

"So long as she's up to chat. No pushing it, understand?" Ratchet instructed, earning an audible sound of annoyance from Slipstream. She'd be damned if she was going to be treated like a fragile toy.

"I can handle a few questions. My spark is on the line just as much as anybot else. Moreso, considering how Starscream holds a grudge." She said, a little more honest than was probably wise. It was undoubtedly possible that if Starscream had escaped, he likely knew who to thank for slowing his progress, and he would not be grateful.

"Windblade has volunteered to work with you. By combining your expertise, I believe the two of you stand the best chance of locating Starscream and the Allspark." Optimus said, gesturing to the femme still standing beside her. Slipstream felt her aching insides give an angry start, optics narrowing as she turned her helm to look at the femme in question.

"Really?"

Windblade met her subtle glare with one of her own, though hers was tainted with a touch of confusion.

"We'll leave the two of you to work out the details. I'm one comm away if anything goes wrong." Ratchet interrupted, putting his scanner away and allowing Optimus to dismiss them with a polite nod. An awkward silence fell between them until the doors closed behind the Prime and the medic, immediately after which Slipstream let out a bitter chuckle.

"So eager to see me helpless, Windblade?"

"Primus, I'd hoped you were past this..." Windblade sighed, putting her forehelm in her hand. Slipstream had to bite back another bitter laugh. Did she really think she was so foolish? Her enemy was on a platter, wounded after coming crawling to her for help. Autobot or not, she had to be enjoying the power imbalance. "I spent a lot of time avoiding you and your scouts, and you know every Decepticon cache, hiding spot, and base on this planet. If there's anyone who can track a team of errant Seekers, it's us."

Digesting the information, Slipstream considered the possibilities. It was certainly true. Windblade had known enough about her methods to evade her for months, and she was quite familiar with all the places a Decepticon could find refuge and supplies. That information combined could prove quite useful. But she couldn't help but wonder, would she really be treated as an ally? "How do you know I won't try to trick you?"

Windblade crossed her arms, tilting her hips in the way she always did when she wanted to add a sarcastic edge to her voice.

"A bot doesn't come crawling to their worst enemy with a sword in their back just to set a ruse. Besides, you're in no shape to pull anything."

Slipstream actually felt the sting of the truth. There was no denying it, she'd been so desperate for anybot to listen that she'd shown her whole hand, without any thought to gaining an advantage in the future. And she couldn't even walk in her current state, what hope did she have of attempting any kind of... well, anything? She was stuck, but at least she had accomplished what she'd set out to do and survived to see the next step. And she was going to make that next step very clear.

"Fair enough. Let's get something straight; this doesn't make me an Autobot. As soon as I'm healed and Starscream is taken care of, I'm returning to my cause. We're allies until the need is gone."

Windblade sighed and pulled up a chair, positioning herself so they were as close to a conversational distance and angle as possible. "I suppose that's the best I can hope for. Let's get down to business then; what's Starscreams plan?"

"If you could call it that..." She replied with a sarcastic laugh, cutting off when she got an odd, somewhat frustrated look in response. Clearing her vents with a somewhat painful cough, she continued. "He's insane, and I believe he's been working for this for some time. After the Lunar Battle, he attempted a coup. It failed, miserably, and Megatron terminated him. Or so he thought."

"Megatron tried to terminate Starscream?" Windblade replied, looking shocked at the brutality. Slipstream rolled her optics at the naivety.

"Of course he did. Arrogant fragger pushed his luck too far, and didn't like that I'd been promoted above him. What was Megatron supposed to do, talk to him?"

"It's just... brutal. Killing somebot on your own side, after going through so much together."

"Well, Megatron has apparently lost his gladiator edge, unfortunately. Starscream wasn't as dead as we'd hoped." Slipstream had to hide a shudder at the memory of the Seekers attempted execution, his broken body being flung throughout the Nemesis until a canon shot had ended any attempt at an escape. It had been a long time coming, but the ship had been very quiet that day.

"So he didn't die, but what's that got to do with his plan?"

"He claims that he's returned from the Allspark with its wisdom, and that it chose him for some great purpose." She explained, remembering the conviction with which Starscream had spoken, and how she'd briefly believed him before his true intentions had been revealed, and she was somehow the only one to see the insanity for what it was. To her great relief, Windblade sarcastically lifted an optic ridge.

"I believe that about as much I believe anything else he says."

She wanted to thank the other femme for saying that. Being surrounded by so much delusion had made her doubt her own sanity, so having it reaffirmed almost lessened the pain she'd had to endure to get her message through. "He's claiming our war is futile, that our lives are pointless, and that the only route to peace is to reunite everyone with the Allspark."

It was unfortunate that she felt even more vindicated by the horror that crossed Windblades face.

"Kill us all?"

"Exactly."

"And the other Seekers are just going along with it? That's _madness_!" Windblade said in utter disbelief. Slipstream agreed, but in the calm of the medical bay she found her thoughts clear enough to examine the actions of her former subordinates. Even if she hadn't known them well enough to see the betrayal coming, she'd known them long enough to see what may motivate them. Starscream was untouchable, and that kind of power was appealing to bots so low on the Decepticon hierarchy. The future was invisible in the face of such previously unknown security.

"All they care about is being on the winning team. They're not thinking any further ahead than their next target."

Looking disturbed by her reasoning, Windblade cleared her vents. "Well, we can't let them get to that target. Does Starscream have any control over the Allspark?"

"Enough. Acid Storm worked on it with Shockwave, and they've gotten Vector Sigma to work. He's already using it to make... things." Slipstream replied, words catching at the end. All too clearly she could see the monstrosities crawling from the light of the Allspark, their gaping mouths drooling around rows of energon sucking teeth as they scuttled forth to do their masters bidding.

"What did he make?" Windblade asked, sounding like she needed but didn't want the answer.

"They were... they were like scraplets, but worse. Bigger, and capable of following orders. They converged on him and he... he called them his _children_, said they carried the sparks of the Primes..." She held back a gag, desperate not to show how horrified the memory made her. But no bot could blame her for being sickened. To corrupt the source of their being and make it spit out such perversions was unthinkable. "One of them grabbed arm as I escaped, I could feel it draining my energon..."The memory of fleeing came back in painful detail. Razor sharp little fangs puncturing right through to her veins and sucking like a parasite, crushing and severing the wires of her neural net as it tried to bleed her dry. A throb of pain in her repaired but still aching arm matched the memory. "I barely got it off."

"I'm sorry..."

There was a gentle hand on her wing, a common gesture of friendly support amongst jets. It caught her so off guard she spoke loud and fast to clear the moment.

"It doesn't matter. He has an endless supply of those little monsters and he's given himself some kind of armor as well. It's enough for him to get started, and he likely has far worse planned." Embarrassing as it was, the outburst did the trick, and Windblade put a thoughtful hand to her chin as she processed all she'd been told. Truthfully it felt good just to have someone listen and take the concern seriously. Sappy as they were, Autobots were far more likely to heed a call for assistance.

"Then he'll need to be somewhere he can hole up a decently sized force. Any idea where a Decepticon base big enough for that may be?"

"A few. They're scattered far over the planet though. And I'm not sure how I can use a data screen like this." She said, looking down at the body she couldn't move.

"We'll rig up something for you. Can you at least move your good arm?"

Wincing, Slipstream lifted her good arm at the elbow joint, finding it to ache just as much as the rest of her but still be mobile. If they could angle a screen within her line of sight, then she'd be able to operate it.

"Well enough. Get me some planetary maps and I'll show you everywhere I believe he could be hiding. So long as you don't expect me to fly you there myself, it should be enough to get started."

Windblade actually let out a laugh; a quick, quiet chuckle that she cut off with her hand the moment she realized her voice box had betrayed her by letting it out. The air grew thick with awkward tension afterwards, which the other femme broke by standing and clearing her vents. Slipstream could have sworn she saw a blush between her fingers. It was enough to make her realize the whole interaction had left her very drained, due both to its traumatizing and downright strange nature.

"I'll get everything set up. Shouldn't take long. I'll have Ratchet stay with you until I get back."

She made a move to lift her comm, then stopped herself. Her expression softened, becoming remarkably similiar to the one she'd given her while she hovered between life and death.

"But I wanted to thank you first. You could have fled the planet and left us all to face this, but you looked beyond our differences."

Slipstream sighed, almost drowning in the sappiness but too tired to argue. She was just a big enough bot to know when something went beyond the war, that was all. It was only remarkable because so many of her fellow Decepticons were so terribly small minded. If she had to be the one to save them from themselves, then so be it, she was hardly unused to picking up the slack for others. "I'm not letting that arrogant lunatic wipe us all out for a vanity project."

Closing her optics, she let out a weary vent, determined to get her strength back. "I'm going to get some rest. Wake me when you have what we need."

Some part of her just knew Windblade nodded in agreement, but she was too tired to listen in as the medic was commed. Hard work lay ahead, and being strong enough to do it was the key to ensuring any bot would ever have a future at all.


	3. Snacks and Strategies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should explain my headcannon that;   
A. Bots need ores, minerals and crystals in addition to energon, as the former provides raw materials to heal and grow while the latter gives energy.   
B. A Molder is a device that takes raw materials and processes them to taste better. Higher quality Molders can produce better tasting meals even out of lower quality ores, but it can only improve them so much, and processing too much just results in something that tastes good but isn't food for you, like junk food.

The hardest part about managing the data screen over her head was not ensuring her good but not great arm got enough rest to avoid aching, as Slipstream quickly discovered, but trying to decipher the impossible nonsense that was Autobot operating systems. In addition to having no knowledge of the alphabet, nothing was organized in a manner she understood. Controls were in unnatural places, if they seemed to exist at all, and more often than not the button she thought would give her what she needed just ended up erasing all the progress she'd made to identifying a location. All the frustration was making her a little short tempered.

"I told you, he'd never hide there. The base isn't nearly well stocked enough for what he needs." She snapped, trying to scroll away from the location Windblade was stubbornly insisting on. Using her far greater understanding of the technology, the other femme brought the map right back to the base location, pointing at it aggressively.

"And I'm telling you the signals are jammed enough by the human settlements to make it an ideal hiding spot. I avoided you there for months." She said, neck craning at their awkward angle to view the screen. Slipstream wanted to scream at her inability to see basic strategy.

"Hiding doesn't do him any good if he can't keep his army fed. We're crossing this off the list of options."

"I'm certain Starscream can keep supplies running and secure a location at the same time. He's got more than enough Seekers for quick transportation, we need to make this a top possibility!" Windblade argued back, striking a nerve. Slipstream clenched her fists with a growl, raising her voice higher to offer a furious rebuttal.

"Don't presume to lecture me on the abilities of _my _former Seekers! I was the one who-"

A sharp cry passed her throat when she unknowingly tried to sit up to assert herself, the still fresh wounds on her torso punishing her fiercely with a shock of pain that only faded to a throbbing ache when she lay perfectly still. Ventilating in slow, careful breaths of cool air to soothe the hurt, she cracked open her optics once she was again in control. Windblade was standing over her, arms out in alarm and face wracked with worry. The concern almost made Slipstream flustered. She was a recovering soldier, not a sparkling in need of help.

"Don't..." She croaked much weaker than she would have liked, waving her good arm to dismiss the unwanted concern. Windblade sighed in frustration and exhaustion, sitting back in her chair to rub her temple ridges and stretch out her neck.

"Maybe we should take a break. There's a lot on the line, and cracking under the pressure won't help anybot."

As much as she hated stopping before a job was done, Slipstream could feel her limited stamina failing from their arguing and had to agree. Using the only control she knew with certainty, she turned off the projection. "Fine. We at least managed to agree on a few possible hiding places for your scouts to explore. I do wonder what Megatron would do to me if he knew I was handing you this information for free."

"We did save your life. Consider that our end of the deal." Windblade replied, arms crossed as she stretched out her back. Scoffing, Slipstream replied just loud enough to be heard.

"I didn't ask."

The words were greeted with a frown that appeared more disappointed than angered, but Windblade quickly shook it off and made her tone more upbeat. "Let's make this a fuel break. Ratchet gave me an audialful about not letting you miss any meals. I can have some energon and the ores he wanted you to eat brought over."

"My healing protocols are already demanding some raw materials, so that would be fine." Slipstream replied, her tanks feeling empty at the mere mention of some fuel and ores. Even without her injuries she was overdue for a proper meal, all thanks to the stressful time she'd had trying to handle her promotion before everything had been turned upside down. She allowed herself to lie back and tune out Windblade as she commed out her request, still quite miffed with her for arguing against her advice. It wasn't that long ago they'd been working _very_ hard to kill one another either. One could hardly blame her for having less than positive feelings regarding her sworn enemy, even if their circumstances had taken a massive turn. But it was impossible to ignore how quickly Windblade had listened to her in her time of need, and how she'd come to her defense when death had seemed certain.

No amount of effort allowed her to forget the way she'd looked at her on the operating table, so genuinely worried but supportive... It made her feel so strange and conflicted that she was desperate to keep it from her mind whenever it flared up. A knock on the door gave her a blessed out, and she was just able to angle her helm enough to see Windblade greet some low level Autobot who handed off a tray and stole one look at her before scurrying off. No doubt to gossip about seeing the captive in person.

"Alright, we've got some corundum crystals, a bit of gibbsite, and boehmite. Perfect for jets. Oh, and the energon is in a packet so you don't have to worry about sitting up." Windblade announced, bringing the tray over and setting it on the small, foldable arm of the medical berth that wounded bots such as herself could eat off of. The meal sounded good, especially considering she'd been living mostly off low quality ores processed to minimum levels. Perhaps the Autobots had better luck locating good stuff... Taking a random piece off the tray, her optics snapped open once she got a look.

"_This_ is what you're feeding prisoners? What's your Prime eating?" She marveled, turning the precious blue gibbsite crystal over in her hand. It was clear just from the sight of the delicious looking gleam it had been purified, heat treated, and processed into perfection. And as if that weren't enough, it had even been precut into an exquisitely faceted bite sized piece. It had been millions of cycles since she'd even seen food so well prepared.

Windblade only replied with a look of total confusion, her mouth full of a large bite of orange corundum before she swallowed it down and tried to reply.

"Uh, probably something more along the lines of magnetite and graphite, why?" She asked, listing minerals more common for a bulky grounder like her leader and completely missing the question. Now Slipstream was utterly lost. If Windblade and Optimus were both eating ores of this quality, then they must have had somebot bringing it to them. Leaders didn't have time to waste digging through the dirt or processing ores, and that would explain the low level nobody who'd brought the tray in the first place. Clearly that was one of the grunts earning his keep by keeping his bosses happy.

"Then... you must have arranged some miner class to find and process these for you." She offered, popping the crystal into her mouth just in case her former enemy decided she was done sharing. An impossible sweetness greeted her glossa as she chewed, reminding her of the natural perfumes of the crystal flower gardens near Kaon. It took everything to avoid closing her optics and visibly savoring the taste.

"Of course not. Every bot takes a turn scavenging. I don't know who found these, but they went into the shared supply like all other finds and were brought out when I requested them." Windblade explained, sounding bemused and a little uncomfortable. Slipstream almost felt her brain module go into standby. What was being described to her was an absolute fantasy, and as far from life on the Nemesis as one could get. There, every bot had a strictly enforced allotment, with all reserves existing under heavy guard. Stronger bots frequently bullied their underlings for a share of their rations, and the highest level officers chose lackeys to personally mine and process the highest quality ores. Lower bots frequently went hungry, and when they didn't, they got the lowest level scraps. If there was just one shared supply of tasty, exquisite food open to the ship, how did it not become a free for all?

"How would that ever work? Why wouldn't the strongest secure more resources for themselves?" She asked, grabbing a quick bite of boehmite and marveling at the delicious savory flavor. Windblade gave her a pointed look after her question.

"No, we take what we need, and no one goes hungry just because they can't fight. I'd think you would see that."

Slipstream narrowed her optics, offended by what she saw as an insult to her intelligence and what she'd tried to describe. The Decepticons were tough, but their methods were reasonable. Bots too weak to defend themselves may have gone hungry, but they would never be allowed to starve. Losing soldiers never benefited anyone.

"If I'd been injured in his service and he thought me salvageable, Megatron would have ensured I was repaired and given what I needed to heal, but never indulged in luxury like this. Such excellent quality ores put through a high tier Molder would be reserved for top officers, not a femme foolish enough to get stabbed in the back." She explained, a little bitter at the end but quite honest. You had to earn comforts in life, giving them out would just get you taken advantage of. Despite what Windblade claimed about every bot just taking what they needed, it was clear to her that somebot had to be stockpiling some extra supplies. It didn't matter if she didn't have proof, it was just an inevitability. Thankfully, Windblade didn't seem to want to argue, and kept her tone nomcombative.

"Wheeljack built our Molder. It makes great meals out of okay materials no problem, so every bot gets some. Even if it didn't, no one bot is getting special treatment because of rank. Autobots don't do that."

Slipstream couldn't help but smile at the ignorance she was hearing. She just had to offer a bit of advice.

"Hmph, a naive outlook. If you were a bit more realistic and didn't hold back, you could fully enjoy the benefits offered by a high station. I've fought you often enough to know you could take almost any bot on this ship. If you took a Decepticon approach to power, you could secure yourself the best quarters, servitude from your subordinates, and the highest quality rations all to yourself."

Windblade actually narrowed her optics in thought, appearing to consider the words carefully. Slipstream was surprised by the reaction. Autobots were typically too in love with their morals to even entertain the logic of reality, especially when it came to how they acted with their teammates. Not that Slipstream wasn't against being close to bots you fought alongside, but it was illogical to assume you wouldn't eventually be betrayed when they had an opportunity to better their position. Living your life with that truth in the open was far more comfortable, she thought to herself as she reached for another crystal.

Windblades expression shifted to a smirk, and she grabbed the tray and lifted it out of Slipstreams reach with a tease. "Oh, like this?"

The move caught her so off guard Slipstream couldn't hold back a yell.

"Hey!"

Windblade kept her smirk, holding the tray just above her helm and out of her reach. Slipstream silently fumed as she was teased with the results of her own advice. "Gotta admit, I already see the benefits."

"I liked you better when we were trying to kill each other." Slipstream huffed in a half mumble, more embarrassed than anything. For a Decepticon, being conned by an Autobot in any capacity was... degrading. Even in such a sparkling like display.

"We should have tried a truce ages ago. Your advice is very helpful." Windblade said, bringing the tray back down as a peace offering to finish her little game. Slipstream narrowed her optics, feeling like she was back with her subordinates and dealing with their endless bickering and immaturity. Thundercracker had always given her a beain module ache when he whined that Thrust was pushing him out of the group airstream...

"You're impossible." She said, no bite to her voice despite her offence. Windblade took one more crystal before pushing the rest of the contents her way to show no hard feelings, looking apologetic.

"Have some of my share. You look like you could use the aluminum compounds more than I do." She offered, sounding helpful. For all her maturity, Slipstream was still a little miffed by the other femmes actions. She didn't particularly enjoy being made to look the fool.

"Assuming you won't play any more sparkling games."

"It's called having fun. I'm pretty sure even you've heard of it." Windblade replied with a sigh, looking a little frustrated by her poor attitude. Slipstream didn't even want to dignify that with a reply. Of course she knew how to have fun, she just also knew there was a time to be serious. Why was it so hard for any other bots to see that? Perhaps, in her own Autobot way, it had been just a poor attempt to lighten the tension. Slipstream could appreciate a goal of cooperation, even if it was only going to last as long as she was certain there was a greater threat than Autobots. Changing the subject and dropping the offense for now seemed her best option for peace.

"Credit where it's due, these are some of the best corundum crystals I've had since Cybertron." She commented after a bite, relishing the deep sweet taste of the purple polished gem. Windblade took out her cube of energon and uncapped it, taking a sip before she replied.

"I thought high officers got the good stuff all the time."

"They do, and I'm not among them."

Windblade looked surprised, then apologetic.

"Oh. I always assumed..."

"I did lead the Seekers for a short while, after Starscream went messiah. I didn't exactly have time to collect many of the benefits." Slipstream explained, not offended by the misunderstanding. Rank was a fact of life on the Nemesis, and she'd been goaded with far worse insults for her place of the hierarchy. A misspoken comment from an Autobot was hardly enough to rattle her on this particular issue. In fact, knowing her rival had always thought she was of a high ranking was a nice little boost to her. Not that she would ever reveal that, of course.

"Well, maybe a few good meals with us low lives will help you see things the Autobot way." Windblade replied, looking relieved she hadn't offended. It was odd that she'd care, Slipstream thought, even with their present cooperation. They'd tried to kill each other many times in the past, and she made it clear that dynamic was going to return someday. Perhaps it was just typical Autobot sappiness, and she had to be content to not understand it.

"Please, I'm not that easily bought." Slipstream replied after finishing down another crystal, finding it hard to be angry or unpleasant with a good meal. Even her energon wasn't bad, and easy enough to drink in her current position in its clever packet container.

"We'll see." Windblade commented, sounding like she was talking to herself. Ignoring it, she finished off her crystals, feeling far more relaxed than when they'd been arguing before. A break had definitely been what they needed. But she had her stamina back now, and the work that has yet to be done was itching at her to be completed.

"We should return to work. I'm feeling more than sufficiently rested."

"Sounds like a plan. Back to where we started?" Windblade offered, putting the screen back up. The map of their highly contested base location was facing them again, and for reasons she couldn't quite explain, Slipstream felt something inside of her give. It was easiest to tell herself that she was just accustomed to playing the bigger bot and the peacemaker, and Windblade had been sufficiently accommodating enough to earn some deceny. And stopping Starscream would be much easier if their rivalry hit a pause button. That's why she told herself she relented, anyway.

"We can add this location to the list if you truly believe it's a possibility. It's not like I'll have to do any of the searching myself." She said, pointing to the coordinates she'd identified. Windblades optics lit up and a small smile pulled at her lips, but she didn't run it in. The maturity was refreshing.

"I'll get our scouts on it right away. I've been to the area personally, so I'll lead them."

It occurred to Slipstream that Windblade was the only bot she had any reason to interact with other than Ratchet, and the thought brought up a nagging question.

"Out of curiosity, what am I supposed to do while you're out?"

"Ratchet has plenty planned to get you back on your pedes. And Bumblebee volunteered to wait with you while I'm gone." Windblade offered, lack of hesitation indicating she'd thought about the answer in advance. Despite the well intentioned reply, she found herself shuddering at the thought. The medic was understandable, but the scout had a reputation for being... chatty.

"Primus, you really are trying to torture me." She replied with mild sarcasm, earning a small snicker that Windblade didn't try to hide as she put the location down for exploration.

"I'll try and be back fast, if you think you'll miss me that much."

Slipstream actually smiled at the joke, albeit with a challenging air. This was teasing more akin to the quips they'd traded on the battlefield, and it was far more her speed. "Don't flatter yourself."


	4. Hurt and Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be following roughly the events of the show going forward, with more significant diversion from the plot as I progress. For now, offscreen for this chapter were pretty much exactly the events of Season 2 Episode 8.

"I've applied as many painkiller patches as I can, but it's still gonna hurt. You ready?"

Slipstream looked to the deactivated patches on the surgical tray beside her and sighed. Their coding had minimized the strength of her neural receptors all around the silvery mesh coating her still massive wound, but the medics advice was undoubtedly true. She still had just enough feeling left to ensure these stretches would be most unpleasant.

"As I'll ever be. Are you certain you can't lock the door?" She asked, feeling preemptively vulnerable without a total guarantee she wouldn't be walked in on. Showing one Autobot her weakness was bearable, given his status as the medic, but any more would make the already unpleasant experience notably worse. She didn't even want Windblade there, regardless of their currently civil standing. The concern she always showed when she was in pain made her more than a little uncomfortable, more so because she couldn't figure out why. Ratchet dismissed the concern with a handwave.

"Medical bay is always open, just in case. But no bot that wants to keep their brain module intact is gonna walk in unless it's an emergency." He assured, grabbing the wrench he always seemed to have nearby and giving it a toss to his other hand before tapping it against his palm. The sight made her realize that the tool was far too big for operating, and he was implying that it'd be used for the opposite of repairs regardless. At least it was better than what Shockwave did, he always just sicked his drones on bots that interrupted him. "I'll start by sitting you up. Pain is normal, but if it feels like something is about to break, don't keep it to yourself, understand?"

Biting down a gulp, she steeled herself. "Let's begin."

Ratchet put a hand beneath her shoulder and started to lift, as he'd told her he would. Before she'd even raised a half inch off the berth, her wounds started to protest, a sharp ache radiating from the center to fill her entire neural net. Gritting her dentae, she reasoned that it was necessary, that moving was the only way to keep joints from becoming stiff and internal hydraulics from atrophy, but logic was hardly a match for pain. A small sound escaped her before she could stop it, an audible gasp of weakness she hated herself for letting past.

"Sorry, but we can't stop. I can go with your pace, if you want to set it." Ratchet said with care, not being overly gentle but certainly not scolding. The tone was just another of the million surprises the Autobots had given her. A Decepticon medic would have given her no end of grief, if they'd felt like helping her through this at all. Hot pain in her chest and back left her no time to ponder the difference.

"I'm... fine..." She gasped out on instinct, moving along with the medic until she was half sitting up. Coolant was already beading on her forehelm from the effort and the pain, and her ventilations had become rough. Pushing through it all, she tried to ignore how the surgical mesh moved as it was stretched, its edges folding over her still open wounds in a way that felt most unnatural.

"Almost there." Ratchet assured, keeping her supported as they neared the fully upright position he'd described. A snarl almost passed her lips in her very compromised state. Despite the pain, she'd had preferred a Decepticon medic if only to avoid the stupid softness of pointless comfort. At least their hard approach made sense. Why would he keep speaking softly if it had been her own fault she'd wound up like this? Confusion wasn't exactly something she had the patience to deal with at that moment.

Reaching the apex of their movement, she sat fully upright with support, as winded as she'd normally have been after flying non-stop for days. He let her stay like that a moment before laying her back down in one smooth movement, allowing her to slow her ventilations and get some sense of stability back. Once the pain had returned to a bearable ache, she opened her optics and he spoke again.

"I'll let you rest for a bit, then we'll try again. If I think you've made enough progress, I'll go in for more repairs tomorrow." He said, entering some information into a data pad. Despite herself, she grimaced, wishing he'd just knock her out and get it done while she was blissfully unconscious. Before he could say anything further, his comm beeped out an alarm, and he took it without hesitation.

"This is Ratchet, go ahead."

She seemed to dissapear from his perception as he took the message without broadcasting, leaving her clueless as to what was going on. A series of expressions moved across his face before he replied with not at all concealed distaste.

"I take it they won't be giving us anything for our efforts. Any injuries?"

Now more curious than ever, Slipstream would have given anything to ask for clarification if she'd thought she would get it. The medic was silent for an agonizing amount of time, listening to the speaker she could only guess at. The Ark had been quiet enough once she'd awoken in the morning that she'd assumed a large segment of bots were out, including Windblade, but she'd thought it was just for routine scouting. Had something happened that no one had bothered to tell her about, including Windblade? The possibility made her a little miffed.

"I don't care if Primus himself claimed to heal you, I want every bot that took a hit to come in for a check up. We've got no idea what those things are capable of." Ratchet said unexpectedly, not providing her with any answers. Instead, she was only more confused and far more concerned.

"Understood. See you before the cycle ends."

The silence that came afterwards was thankfully brief. At her lost, somewhat panicked expression, the medic explained quickly.

"We got a distress call from the Nemesis and Optimus decided to launch a rescue mission. Starscream and his little pets were there with the Allspark. His monstrosities did some damage to our side and theirs, but he cut and run with the Allspark as soon as the fight started to turn. Nemesis and it's crew are safe and our bots are on their way back now."

Somehow, she felt even worse after hearing the answer. Starscream had made a move, against the Decepticons? And the Autobots had gone to _help_? He'd made a full, coordinated attack with his creations and no one had bothered to tell her? For all the emotions running through her mind, all that she got out was a weak croak.

"W-what?"

"Relax, the Allspark fixed most of the damage before Starscream managed to snag it and run, Decepticons included. I'm having every bot come in regardless to be sure, so you'll be getting some company."

One part in particular stuck out to her now. They'd had a chance to stop him and failed, and he was now free to plan whatever follow up attack he desired. Worse, no one had even bothered to involve her for help. The thought terrified and angered her.

"I don't understand, how was Starscream allowed to escape?"

Ratchet put up a firm hand that made it clear there would be no more discussion.

"Windblade was there, she'll probably tell you all about it when she gets back. For now, I want you resting and ready for more stretches. Worrying over other bots will just hamper your healing."

Slipstream knew when she was beat, but that didn't make defeat any easier to swallow. Allowing Ratchet to continue the agonizing stretches while speaking no more of the message he'd gotten had her wondering whether her body or her uncertainty were hurting her more. Waiting the countless grueling hours for Windblade and the others to arrive put her in a sour and exhausted mood, so much so that she was near her breaking point when Ratchet finally got confirmation the others would be along shortly. The only positive thing was that she was now free to adjust the berth to allow her to sit up, so she could at least look a little less ridiculous.

She couldn't keep the glare off her face when the doors opened and a whole team entered. Optimus, Hot Rod, Windblade, Bumblebee, and the strange mech she'd come to know as Cheetor all entered without visible injuries, but Ratchet still took control and began issuing directions. In all the action, she seemed invisible.

"Every bot takes a turn on the scanner. I don't care how fine you feel, we have no idea what kind of damage those things are capable of." The medic instructed, earning an audible groan from Hot Rod as he put his hands up in exasperation.

"Come on Ratchet, we were healed by the Allspark! Do you really think it did a patch job?" He said, likely speaking the thoughts of a few of his teammates, but with far more brashness than they ever would have.

"You're first then, Hot Rod. On the berth and no moving." Ratchet snapped, pointing to the berth two down from her. While he sighed dramatically, the fire patterned mech still obliged, dragging his pedes the whole while.

"Ugh, fine..." Hopping on the berth with a flourish, he took a pose more commonly seen in sunbathing, looking down at Slipstream before offering a very sarcastic wink. "Come here often?"

Had she thought it wouldn't have ended poorly for her, Slipstream would have ended him right there. As it was, she settled for a glare and a snarl that shut him right up. He avoided optic contact as the scanner began its run, and before she could try and get a word out, Optimus Prime spoke up.

"What injuries are you concerned of, Ratchet? All physical signs of attack were removed by the Allspark."

Ratchet immediately began going into a terrifying amount of detail on the horrors of internal injuries and the diseases transferred by energon parasites when Windblade quietly closed the distance between them, approaching her with an expression she couldn't quite decipher and speaking under the medic so as not to draw attention to them.

"I'll tell you everything once the others are gone." She said, looking over her shoulder at the group as Ratchet continued his lecture. They all looked far too horrified to notice their side conversation. Still in a less than positive mood thanks to the days events, Slipstream bit back.

"You'll include me now?"

Windblade closed her optics, making something akin to a small flinch as if she'd been struck. Clearly she'd been expecting the accusation.

"It's not like that, we didn't-"

"Bumblebee, you're next. On the berth." Ratchet said, moving the line along. Windblade continued right where she'd left off, eager to get her words out without being interrupted.

"We didn't have time. The distress call came in without warning, and there wasn't exactly a chance to plan anything resembling a coordinated attack." She explained, unable to thoroughly convince Slipstream despite the sense of the reasoning. As far as she was concerned, she'd been cut out from the very thing she'd risked so much to help with, and words alone weren't going to help with that. At least she'd thought that she'd earned the right to be told things were happening. She certainly didn't like Windblade, but it had seemed to her that their working relationship in this crisis had at least reached the point of mutual understanding. Obviously she'd been wrong.

"Clearly; Starscream escaped." She snapped, most infuriated by the loss of a critical chance to end the conflict for good. So long as Starscream lived, the threat of termination hung over all of their heads, and she was stuck without a chance to return to the Decepticons. It made her a little unwilling to hear excuses. Expression darkening, Windblade appeared ready to retort when she was called for her turn, and their conversation was left dangling as the other femme took her turn on the scanner. As she lay on the berth not so far away, Slipstream mulled over everything, particularly the enigma that was the Autobots behavior towards her. Their history couldn't be erased with a single truce, but Windblade seemed oddly determined to push past their rivalry and secure a friendlier dynamic, save for this little incident. It absolutely confounded her.

"All clear." Ratchet announced at last, having finished the scans.

"Wow, who would have guessed?" Hot Rod joked, giving Bee a playful nudge. The scout snickered despite himself, only for both mechs to freeze when Ratchet pulled a wrench out of what appeared to be thin air.

"You're all free to leave, unless you'd like an actual injury, Hot Rod?"

"Nope, I'm good! Coming, Bee?

"Uh..." Bumblebee paused to look to Windblade, uncertainty clear in his features. She smiled and gave a friendly nod to the door.

"Go ahead. I'll catch up."

Bumblebee smiled and nodded back, transforming alongside Hot Rod but lingering for just a moment longer.

"Coming, Cheetor?" Cheetor looked a little surprised by the query, but reacted quickly and eagerly.

"Oh, yes! One moment please!" He said politely, turning to Slipstream with a smile. The same friendly face she'd seen the night she almost died made her feel more than a little conflicted, but the happiness in his expression helped put her at ease. "I'm pleased to see you're doing well! I hope we get to speak when you're feeling better!"

"Uh..."

Hot Rod bumped Cheetors leg in vehicle mode before she could respond, peeling out of the room in a wordless declaration that it was time to leave. The Maximal acquiesced with a quick "bye" before transforming into his beast mode, following Bumblebee out of the room as he also hurried off. The medical bay was left almost painfully quiet in their absence, and it was in this silence that Windblade spoke up.

"Optimus, seeing as she gave us intel before, I'd like to go over the mission events with Slipstream. Perhaps the two of us together can make something useful out of it all." She said, sounding formal to appease her leader. He nodded in agreement, not needing any convincing on the subject.

"Of course, Windblade. You are free to share whatever information you believe will enable us to defeat Starscream." He said, looking to Slipstream with his usual air of politeness. "I'm pleased to see you are doing better. Anything you require to hasten your healing, please ask, and I will be glad to assist.

As mystified as ever to how somebot so painfully polite and outwardly soft could have once called her leader a friend, she settled for a nod of acknowledgement, glad to see him and Ratchet leave the room to discuss other matters. That left her alone with Windblade, and the silence they stewed in was thick as an oil field before the other femme broke it.

"Where do I even begin..." Windblade sighed, taking a seat on the berth next to hers. Slipstream just scoffed at the rhetorical question.

"At the beggining, obviously. Why in the name of Primus would you answer a Decepticon distress call?" She asked, going back to the event that seemed to have started the whole debacle. In theory, she already knew why the Decepticons had called for help. Autobots always came to save the day, they were too weak sparked to ignore a call for help, even if it got them killed. But now that she was here among them, she still couldn't understand _why_ they'd done it.

"Because they needed help, and no one else was going to give it." She explained, optics going hard with conviction as she spoke. When Slipstream gave a visible dismissal of the pontificating, her gaze softened along with her voice. "By giving your enemy that chance, you open up the possibility that they may one say not be your enemy."

There was something deeply personal about the way Windblade said the addendum that Slipstream found immediately alarming, more so for how much it confused her even further. Refusing to be sidetracked, she pushed forward, shaking her helm to clear the thoughts.

"Absurdity aside, _why_ wasn't I told?"

"It was a rush just to get there before we thought it'd be too late. But even then, I should have found time to tell you. You could have given us more information about what we were walking in to. If not, you at least deserved to know what was happening. We're all in this together against Starscream. I'm sorry." She said, and Slipstream had to work to remain angry. Not only was the logic sound, but the apology was more than unexpected. The words "I'm sorry" were typically only uttered by bots begging on their knees, not offered without hesitation. Again, the Autobot was just confusing her, and she didn't like it but didn't dare to show it.

"It's pointless to apologize for what's already done. I'm more interested in what exactly transpired on the ship. Starscream was there, with the Allspark, but you let him escape. How?"

Windblade took a deep vent, closing her optics as she recalled the events of the day.

"When we arrived, the ship was quiet. Every Decepticon aboard was frozen, completely drained of energon but still with their sparks. They'd all put up a fight, but none had managed to escape. They were just... in a sick standby mode." She explained, painting a terrifying picture. Even if Slipstream was hardly on good terms with her former comrades, the thought of them paralyzed as playthings to Starscreams sick whims sent a chill down her spinal strut. The motivation for such a move was immediately clear to her.

"He would have liked them like that, before the end. Completely helpless, so they'd feel how he claimed to feel."

"It was all the work of his... creatures. They were just like you described; like scraplets, but bigger and twisted. They were everywhere you looked, and no matter how many you killed, there were always more." Windblade continued, shaking a little as she did so. Slipstream was unable to judge. Now at least there were more bots who had seen the horror and knew what they were up against.

"And he has an infinite supply."

Windblade took out the Stormfall Sword from its place on her back, keeping it sheathed but looking over the hilt with distant optics. It was clear the scene was still playing before her optics. "I tried to end it. I had my sword, I was _feet_ away from him, and I couldn't make it. They were on me in moments, teeth draining me dry... I couldn't do anything when he went for Optimus."

Slipstream closed her optics, all too aware of the pain. She'd only had the one, but it had bitten to kill, and her arm still had yet to recover.

"I was barely aware, but Cheetor was the one who overpowered him. He used his connection to the Allspark to tear off Starscreams armor and heal every bot on the Nemesis. But before we could recover, Starscream was already gone. Megatron allowed us to leave peacefully."

Processing it all, Slipstream felt both a sense of peace and urgency from the story. So she wasn't insane, and now there were many on both sides who knew just what Starscream was capable of. But he'd also managed to almost succeed on his first try, and it sounded like mere luck was all that had prevented him from doing so. Once more, Windblade broke into her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, I didn't really understand just what a threat he was. I can't believe you managed to escape him and his Seekers." She said, voice open as she bared her spark to her former enemy. There was nothing but genuine apology in her voice, as well as a touch of awe at the end. The praise was as confusing as anything she did, but Slipstream was fine enough with validation to handle it.

"It wasn't without cost." She said, looking to her still hard to ignore injuries. She'd nearly died to get the truth out, and now she was living far from how she wanted to ensure that any bot would ever have a future. It was a sacrifice she could live with, but wouldn't pretend she was happy about.

"I won't leave you out of anything from now on. I promise, as soon as I know anything, you'll know it too. We'll all have to work together if we want to stop him." Windblade said, standing from the berth to make her declaration. At the appreciated but unnecessary theatrics, Slipstream let out a laugh that wasn't as bitter as she'd expected.

"Someone finally listens."

"I was always listening. Just... not hearing you as well as I should have." Windblade said, both assuring and apologizing. Despite herself, Slipstream smiled a little at the praise, hiding any genuine feelings of vindication behind a smug veneer. "If we didn't have the information you gave us, I'm not sure we would have been able to come out on top."

"If you'd have died, our chances of defeating him would have decreased significantly." Slipstream replied surprisingly naturally, not really realizing what she'd said until it was past her lips. Regret came the moment Windblade seemed to lift her wings at the praise.

"That almost sounds like a compliment."

Slipstream recovered quickly. "Merely an acknowledgement of the truth. Don't look too much into it."

Her backtrack had little effect. The other femme had her wings high and was clearly holding back a grin at what she likely thought of as a victory without comparison. "If you say so."

"Regardless, your medic intends to operate some tomorrow, so I'll be getting some rest. I imagine he'll make it very clear when I'm allowed to be seen again." Slipstream said, diverting the conversation from her unfortunate slip. She really was quite tired and still more than a little sore from everything she'd been through that day, so being alone sounded quite nice at the moment. Especially if Windblade could leave before she had any other misspeaks...

"I'll keep my audials open. Hopefully you'll be up and back in the field with us soon."

"One can only hope. I look forward to showing you how to put Starscream in his place."


	5. Interrupted Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter where we switch to Windblades POV, which will happen again as the story progresses.

"Hey Windblade, I've got to ask..."

Windblade looked up from her cup of energon and realized she'd been completely spacing out, even tracing the rim in thought as she always did when lost in her own mind. Bumblebee was across from her on the canteen table, and she shook her head before replying.

"Yeah, what's up?"

He looked around before speaking, trying to work up a nerve before asking her in a rather low tone.

"What's going on with Slipstream?"

For once, the subtlety of a tone was lost on her. In the rather crowded canteen, it was quite easy to mishear. "Oh, she's having some minor surgeries today, so I won't be in to see her until Ratchet gives me the all clear."

"No, I mean... What's going on with _you_ and _her_? Why are you helping her so much?" Bumblebee asked again, leaning in so he'd be heard by her but not overhead by any of the bots at other tables. Her optics widened at what sounded like an accusation, but he quickly backtracked and clarified to ensure her feelings weren't hurt.

"I'm not mad or anything, I just don't understand. She tried to kill you. Like, a lot." He said, taking a drink of what remained in his cup after finally getting the question off his chest. Windblade looked away, finishing off her own cup as she considered a reply. Even if this question should have obviously been coming, she wasn't at all ready for it.

"I remember that better than anyone, I just... Look, can we have this conversation somewhere else? It's kind of private." She said at last, looking around. While they had no obvious listeners she could see, it was impossible to be sure with so many bots around. Bumblebee nodded, standing and gesturing for her to follow.

"Sure. I know a place."

Of all the places Windblade had been expecting, she was pleasantly surprised when she was led outside and up one of the great rocks bordering the back of the Ark. The colossal boulder had likely cleaved free when they'd attempted to get the ship unstuck, leaving it with a wonderfully flat top that soaked up the sun and made lounging incredibly comfortable. They were alone without threat of being interrupted there, and Windblade found herself spreading her wings and stretching out to enjoy the midday sun.

"I see why you come up here all the time. Sun feels great..." She sighed, remembering how Bee and Hot Rod had made a habit of hanging out on the spot when they'd been excavating the Ark. She hadn't yet had the chance to try it out. It was almost comfortable enough to just power down for a bit, and she even had her optics closed when Bumblebee sat down beside her and reminded her why they were there in the first place.

"And no nosy bots to eavesdrop. So, what's the deal with you and Slipstream?" He asked, pressing a little but with concern. Sighing, she looked for the words again, finding them a little easier in the peace of the mountain air.

"I know she did bad things. I took the brunt of a lot of them." She began, recalling not for the first time in a while their many throw downs. The image of Slipstream charging at her with her own sword, attempting to knock her out of the air, and even binding her to a table for torture were just a few of the memories she had to pick from. "In my mind, she was just a typical Decepticon, maybe even a bit worse than average. I'm not even really sure which one of us hated the other more." Her optics closed again, and the night that had changed everything played before her with even more clarity. "But that night, when she came to us... She wasn't a Decepticon, and I wasn't an Autobot. All she cared about was stopping Starscream, even if she was terrified and already in bad shape. I'd never seen a Decepticon do that. And then Bludgeon..."

Clenching her hands into fists, she saw Slipstream arch in pain, optics going wide as she was run through without a bit of warning. Energon had been everywhere, bleeding onto the earth as her terrified expression betrayed her desperation to live. The silent Decepticon had missed ending her life by mere inches, all because she had the audacity to go to the Autobots for help. If they hadn't been able to get her to Ratchet in time...

"She would have never had the chance to keep going." Bumblebee finished for her, understanding her well enough after their many years of friendship.

"But she's here. And she's still working to make things right. Even if she's still a little... abrasive, she's trying to do the right thing." Windblade continued, opening her optics to look over at him. As crazy as she thought she would sound, she hoped he could hear her conviction. "She could have hauled it off this planet and left us all to our fate, but she didn't... I think she changed, a little. And I think she can keep changing. And I want so badly for her to do that... I haven't seen anything like it since Drift."

"If I hadn't given him that chance, we wouldn't have him as a friend today." Bumblebee echoed, bringing peace to her when he perfectly captured what she was feeling. Nodding, she laid her helm back on the warm stone.

"And if I give her the chance today, maybe tomorrow she'll be... I don't know, but... Just not bad." She said, flinching at the lame addendum. It was, in truth, impossible to imagine Slipstream becoming what Drift had. He was a generally quiet, soft sparked warrior more focused on honor than anything else. Those traits and Slipstream just didn't... work.

"Drift came to me though. He already wanted to be an Autobot. I don't think Slipstream is eager to swap symbols." Bumblebee said, not so much arguing as he was pointing out the limits of reality. And it was a very good point too. Slipstream had made it abundantly clear that not only was she not an Autobot, she had every intention of returning to her side when it was possible. It didn't even matter that she had no plans for how, all she cared about was establishing her intent on the matter. Windblade only hesitated for a moment.

"Maybe not now. But... If a bot has even the smallest chance of being redeemed, if they're willing to take that first step... I think it's our responsibility to do everything we can. The war has taken so much, if we have the chance to gain something, if some bot has the ability to be better, even my worst enemy... I can't let that go."

"I didn't know it was that important to you..." Bumblebee marveled, putting a hand on her shoulder. Sighing and sitting up, she put a hand to her forehelm, feeling a little silly for getting so sappy.

"Maybe I just want to prove to myself that something good can still come out of everything awful we've been through. I don't know. All I do know is Slipstream surprised me, and I'd forgotten what those surprises felt like. I don't want to forget anymore." She said, and as always, Bee was there to support her. Smiling, he moved to sit just beside her, looking out at the mountains and then back to her.

"I don't think can't help much. But if I can... Just let me know. Probably not too soon though. I got picked for mining and foraging duty." He said, finishing with a groan. Sighing, he shifted to the tone of fake sarcasm he always did when he was trying to get her to laugh. "At least I'll have a chance to look for some citrine. No other bot seems to have any luck finding it."

Despite the very heavy nature of their previous conversation, she snickered, putting a hand over her mouth to stop a chuckle. "You and your sweets."

"Oh, should I focus my efforts on carnellion instead?" Bee teased, poking fun at her taste for fancy desserts. The long gone, dark sweet flavor sparked a pang of nostalgia in her spark. Quickly getting her bearings, she teased right back, putting on a fake air of superiority.

"It's not my fault I actually have taste."

Bumblebee hopped to his pedes and dipped low in a fake bow, changing his tone to a ridiculously overdone posh accent. "Do forgive me, miss Cityspeaker, for my peasants perspective on your most delicious of pastries."

She reached up and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him back to the ground and playing with his horns as she retorted through her laughter.

"Shut up!"

They tussled together in laughter so hard their optics brimmed with tears, lost in their silly game until a comm ping made Windblade sit back, surpressing her still present giggles long enough to pick up.

"_Windblade, you busy?"_

Ratchets gruff voice helped her get rid of her remaining chuckles, and she answered while giving Bee a playful push as he tried to make her laugh with a silly face.

"No Ratchet, go ahead."

"_Operations are done and she's awake. But that's not why I'm comming you. The Ark was just contacted, and I think you'll want to get down to the medical bay."_

Her spark pulsed with panic, optics going wide as she processed all the potential implications from the unfortunate to the terrifying. Bumblebee met her gaze, and having heard the call, shared her look of concern. They were of one mind as she gave a quick affirmation then scrambled off the rock, pedes pounding the earth as they ran up the ramp and into the Ark. As they came to a diverging of the hallway, Bumblebee read the situation and announced his plan.

"I'll take the bridge, you head to the medical bay."

She nodded, knowing the relay could be shared between them if one of them was present, and she would likely be needed in the medical bay. They split their paths, and she threw the doors open upon her arrival, barely skidding to a halt.

"I will ask one final time, Prime..." Megatrons voice rang out, played over the speaker Ratchet had for the holocommunications device in his arm. Clearly he was already tapping into the feed. The same video that was currently being viewed by the bridge was projected before him in clear sight of Slipstream, who looked frozen in horror beneath her recently redone surgical mesh as she viewed the face of her leader who couldn't see her. Megatron looked quite annoyed, having obviously been pressing the out of sight Optimus in the few minutes it had taken Windblade to arrive, and he spoke with finality.

"Have you seen my Seeker Commander?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW you eavesdrop on your bosses Skype call to his ex and he's talking about you


	6. Completed Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I promise things will eventually get better for Slipstream I'm just a slut for angst

"As I said before, Megatron. I have no information that would concern you."

If Optimus possibly managed to keep his face as stoic and even as his voice, Slipstream would never know. Their only visual input on the conversation was the Decepticon leaders unimpressed scowl. He sighed at the reply, looking no more convinced and just as agitated. Leaning back in his chair, he looked over to the side, speaking to another Decepticon that silently entered the frame.

"Shockwave, would you please explain how we know he's lying?"

Slipstream felt her spark go cold in her chest, even with the ache of her very recent surgery beside it. The calm lead scientist looked as stoic as ever to the outsider, but she could detect the smallest glint of amusement in his optic. Whatever he had would not bode well for her.

"After our failed peace talks, I was informed that the traitor Slipstream attempted to make contact with Soundwave." He explained, calling her back to the failed attempt to reason with the music loving mech. How quickly he'd gone violent had completely blindsided her, and she realized now that it was likely an indicator of just how much of a traitor the Decepticons considered her. Which made a horrible kind of sense. She and the other Seekers had all dissapeared right when Starscream came back; what reason did they have to believe she wasn't among them? "When she overpowered him, she sought one of your soldiers, and Bludgeon attempted to finalize her execution before she could betray us further. However, I never detected the ceasing of her life signal. Rather, her energy signature merely dissapeared, after entering your ship."

The puzzle pieces were falling terribly into place, and Slipstream felt her brain module racing for a solution. She didn't have time to defeat Starscream and try to plead her case; she was being actively hunted at that moment, assumed to be either a traitor, a prisoner, or both. If she didn't straighten it out fast things would not go well for her.

"You'd certainly not be a stranger to taking treasonous Decepticons, Prime. But to lie about it? You must have something planned with this one." Megatron scolded, look I both annoyed and amused to have caught his enemy in a bind. There was a thoughtful pause, and Slipstream jumped on her chance. Sitting up with the aid of the berth, she interrupted quickly and loudly, as desperate as she had been the night she'd almost died.

"Let me talk to him!" She begged, making Windblade jump and Ratchet give her a rare look of surprise. At their failure to immediately comply, she began to beg, wishing desperately she could stand and reach for the holocommunications device. "Please, let me convince him this is all a misunderstanding! If your Prime tries to cover for me, I'll have no hope of ever rejoining them!"

The two Autobots shared a look before Ratchet acquiesced, contacting Optimus directly. Considering that the Prime had no way out of the corner he'd been backed into, it was likely that he wouldn't deny a chance to let the bot at the center of everything try and clear it all up.

"Optimus, I'm here with Slipstream. She wants to tell the truth. Permission to patch her in?"

There was a brief pause before they all heard Optimus speak directly to Megatron.

"Very well, Megatron. I did not yet have clearance to be truthful, but it seems your Seeker commander wishes to speak for herself."

Ratchet acted quickly, activating the monitor they'd set up for her and patching it in as a bot on the bridge connected them to the communication. In mere moments, Slipstream had the video right in front of her, and her leader appeared in all his usual, terrifying glory. Moreso, in fact, because now he was looking directly at her.

"Slipstream! Looking quite lively for a traitor we thought dealt with." He greeted, Shockwave still looking amused at his side. Clearly, the other Decepticon was enjoying her plight. She didn't care about him, or the Autobots listening, or how desperate she was going to sound. There was something in the depth of her spark that just knew this was a final chance for her, that if she failed here and now, she would never return to the life she knew.

"Lord Megatron, please! This is all a misunderstanding!" She opened, trying to sound more diplomatic than terrified. Regardless of whether it worked or not, Megatron only laughed, a sound that always meant horrible things were coming.

"Really? Because it seems quite clear to me. You attempted to join Starscream after he gained the upper hand and stole the Allspark, but when he refused to take you, you tried to crawl back to our cause." He said, driving a blade into her spark more effectively than Bludgeon had. There was an agonizing bit of truth to his words. For the briefest of moments, she _had_ been willing to serve Starscream again. He'd defied death, taken hold of both the Allspark and Vector Sigma, and had seemed set to be the one to return their race to its proper glory. But unlike the others, she'd come to her senses! Surely her loyalty had to override her transgressions!

"My Lord-!"

"Only to go to the _Autobots_ to escape your punishment. And here you are, still trying to worm your way out of the fate all traitors deserve." He spat, hand up to silence any further arguments. Despite all she wanted to say, her voice box seemed to fritz at the command. How could she argue her case if she wasn't allowed to speak? Were they really just tossing her aside after everything she'd done for them?

"With all due respect, Megatron, Slipstream did not join us of her own free will." Optimus Prime interjected, making her panic further. "We provided medical care after she was injured during the truce. She has been aiding us in our efforts to stop Starscream before he terminates us all."

"Aiding the enemy then, Slipstream? It seems you're quite determined to continue your treason." Megatron replied, taking the information as well as she'd feared he would. Now desperate to save herself in his optics, she tried to use the information she'd been saving for what she'd thought would be a long awaited return to their ranks.

"I was only aiding them to try and stop Starscream, with every intention of returning to you when I was able! I didn't ask them to heal me! My only goal was to prevent Starscream from ending us all, so that the Decepticons could reclaim the Allspark!"

"Is that why you helped him steal Vector Sigma?" He accused, calling back to the theft she'd tried to prevent. If only she hadn't been stopped, how different would things be now?

"I didn't! My Seekers, they betrayed you! I would never-!"

"All interesting explanations, but I've no reason to believe you weren't among them. Lying in an Autobot medical ward makes your word count for very little in my optics." Megatron said, cutting her off. It was obvious to any bot watching that her fate had been decided before the call had even begun, but she refused to relent. How much energon had she shed for the Decepticon cause? How much suffering had she endured because she believed it was the only way to build a society strong enough to resist the temptation of functionalism?

"Please, my Lord, I live to serve-!"

She knew it was over when he raised a hand and roared, her whole body flinching as her spark broke with betrayal.

"Enough!" He ordered, optics simmering as Shockwave stood gleefully by his side. No doubt he'd helped create this decision, all to see another Seeker purged from the ranks. "You have betrayed the Decepticon cause and given no verifiable proof to the contrary. Should you ever attempt to return to me, there will _not_ be a repeat of your previous fortune. From this day forth, you are not one of us."

The video wobbled as she was cut off, Megatron directing a final jab at Optimus as he reached to end the call.

"She's your problem now, Optimus."

Buzzing for only an instant, the video went dead, leaving her staring at a blank holo screen with her world in shambles. She was an outcast. Any of the Decepticons would shoot her on sight, and she had no longer had the cause that had been keeping her going for millions of cycles. The Decepticon symbol seemed to burn into her. Within their records she'd be listed as a traitor, a worthless turncoat who'd abandoned her cause the moment things had seemed tough, and fled to the Autobots. It was just too much.

"Slipstream..."

Windblade broke the silence with a soft whisper, her arm out as if to offer help. The sight snapped something inside of her.

"Let me up." She growled, turning off the holo and making a move to stand. A fiery determination gripped her in that moment, making the pain little more than a distant annoyance as she forced herself up.

"Out of the question, you're recovering from surgery." Ratchet said, voice absolute as he moved to push her back down. Smacking his hand away, she snarled at the unwanted help, rage burning inside of her at the sight of her surroundings. If the Autobots hadn't taken her in, she'd have at least been able to die without having to deal with the fallout. She hadn't asked for any of this, and she wasn't going to ask for permission to set it right.

"He doesn't understand! If I go to him in person, I can make him see my innocence! Now _let me up_!" She demanded, swinging her legs over the berth and sitting upright with enough force to crack her surgical mesh. Pain shot from the wound and the wet heat of leaking energon dribbled down her front, but she ignored it. The determination was making her move like a bot possessed. If she got to the Nemesis in person, managed to gain an audience, and proved she had no loyalty to the Autobots and was willing to face near certain death for his cause... perhaps Megatronus would give her a second chance.

"This isn't up for debate. I'm not asking." Ratchet ordered, pushing her back down into the berth. Weak as she was, she fell back without too much force onto the energon dampened surface.

"Neither am I." She growled, using the fire of her anger to deliver a punch to the medics jaw. As soon as he staggered backwards, she was moving as quickly as she could, hurling herself off the berth and getting her pedes on the ground beneath her. Without delay, they crumpled under her weight, leaving her on her hands and knees as something snapped inside of her at the fall. Coughing in pain, she refused to relent. It couldn't end like this. She wouldn't be tossed aside to the charity of her enemies without first trying to fix things, even if it meant going to Megatron on her knees.

A firm grip on her shoulder stopped her from attempting to stand, and a second left her little to do but struggle with a body too weak to ever hope of fighting free. The futile nature of it all hurt more than her injuries ever could have. She was _helpless_, both to their restraints and the cruel twists of fate, and she was terrified of it. A great chasm of uncertainty was open before her for all of the foreseeable future, and she didn't even have flight to guide her over it.

"You can't keep me here! I have to speak to him!" She begged, refusing to relent even if the fight was obviously over. Windblade held her with more strength than she thought the smaller femme capable of, and she could do nothing to escape her grip as they scuffled on the floor.

"Slipstream _please_! You're hurting yourself!" Windblade pleaded, hand slipping on a streak of energon as she tried to grab her around the middle. Slipstream didn't want to hear. The truth was all crushing down on her like the sword betwixt her shoulders. All the world seemed bleak, and hopeless, and without any hope of the life she'd wanted to live. Why couldn't they be merciful and just end her?

A sharp pain in her shoulder cables made her cry out. The sting of a large needle was unmistakable, and she turned to see it pulled from her just as Ratchet emptied its contents into her veins. There was no resisting the immediate effect. Heaviness filled her body in moments, and the room began to swim before her optics as all the physical fight left her body and she went limp in the arms of her captors. Dimly aware of the hot energon still bleeding down her front, she thought back to the night that had put her here. Why was it so much to ask for fate to go her way for once? She'd asked for so little, and yet here she was, broken and weak in the arms of what should have been her enemies.

"Please... don't make me... I don't want to live like this... please..." She begged as the drugs overtook her, not wanting to die but hoping, perhaps, some kind of miracle could take her away from her current torture. She truly had nothing now. No cause, no allies, no reason to lift her helm come morning... What was the point to any of it?

She went limp with a ragged sigh, and Windblade was left panting from the struggle as she tried to hold her upright as Ratchet did with her energon stained hands. Bleeding a little on his own from the lip, Ratchet let out a sigh when he confirmed she was out, leaving the trail of energon to trickle down his chin as he started giving instructions.

"Help me get her back on the berth." He ordered, and she was far too numb to do anything but comply. Thankfully, despite her bulky build, Slipstream was as light as any jet and went back up without too much fuss. All the while Windblade found the events playing on a horrible loop in her mind, burning themselves into her brain module as she failed to come to terms with what she'd seen. The femme she'd hoped to redeem had just had her entire world shaken, and she wasn't certain it would do anything but tear her apart. Just seeing her like that; so desperate, so heedless to reason, so _scared._.. It was horrifying.

"I'll need to perform surgery again. No doubt she damaged something." Ratchet sighed, sounding a little breathless himself. She couldn't help but be immediately concerned. Slipstream had absolutely decked him without hesitation, was he really in the best place to be cutting her open and working on her insides?

"Ratchet, maybe you-"

Rolling his optics, he brushed off the concern with a hand wave, wiping off his chin as casually as could be. "Please, do you really think she's the first patient to punch me? I'm a professional." Unable to keep herself from smiling softly at the reassurance, her face fell entirely when she beheld the glow of energon on her palms. There was a time when having Slipstream bleed on her would have been a grim but matter of fact aspect of her existence. But now, the sight was almost enough to make her sick.

"This didn't go well." She sighed, all the hope she'd had earlier suddenly gone. The dream of seeing Slipstream turn of her own decision after spending time aboard the Ark and learning her enemies weren't so bad suddenly seemed impossible and foolish. More likely she'd blame her and everyone aboard for the cruel banishment she'd suffered so publicly. Windblade could only feel pity for her.

"No. But it just means we change course. I'll have to ensure her path of recovery is mental as well as physical." Ratchet clipped, giving her just a smidgen of comfort. It was as close as he could come to telling her he wanted the same things she did. Which made sense, considering his close relationship with Drift, and how it had no doubt opened his mind to the possibility of other Cons doing the same. "Now wash yourself off and head out. I've got a lot of work ahead."

_So do I..._ She thought, going to the sink and watching the clear solvent wash the glowing blue down the drain. Her optics flicked to Slipstream only once, the other femmes face contorted with pain even in the depths of unconsciousness. Primus as her witness, she hoped she could still end that pain...


	7. Lost Cause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like heartfelt talks because here we goooooo

For countless hours, or perhaps mere minutes, Slipstream lay on her berth after waking. All of her felt hollow, like her spark had been scooped from her chest instead of stabbed and she was little more than a husk that refused to die. There was no reason to open her optics. No reason to rise, to go on living, or even bother drawing vents. All of her purpose had been stolen from her in an instant, leaving her broken in body and spirit and without recourse to regain any of what she'd lost. A stubborn will to live was the only thing that eventually forced her optics to open, refusing to let her die without struggle.

As always, there was the medical bay, her prison and the only reason her spark was still on this side. Without moving her helm, there was little she could make out just by rolling her optics, but she knew she wasn't alone. Some part of her just knew she was being watched, and by whom. A rush of emotions filled her, like a sick cocktail of hate and hopelessness and fear that threatened to burst forth in a rage. Turning her head, she saw Windblade sitting on a chair beside her, helm a little drooped as if she was barely holding off a power down. The moment Slipstream moved she reacted, looking up to meet her gaze and offering a tired, reassuring smile.

"Hey..."

Slipstream turned her helm away with a curled lip. The maelstrom of hate and despair inside of her found only the briefest moments of peace when it had a target other than herself, and at that moment, Windblade was the source of all her anguish.

"I have nothing to say to you." She snarled, voice weak and low but full of the desired message. Windblade was the one who hadn't let her die. It was her fault she was here now, immobile and a prisoner in a body they hadn't just let slip away when it had so clearly been her time. Now she was alive, but with nothing to live for, all so they could satisfy their Autobot need for moral high ground.

"Slipstream, please, I know this must be hard-" Windblade replied, audibly dissapointed for the moment she had to speak before Slipstream whirled her gaze on her.

"Hard?!" She snapped, dam breaking and her wave of hatred rushing forth. "I have _nothing_! No cause! No allies! Nothing to return to, or fight for, or hope for! And it's all because of _you_! If you had just let me _die_, none of this would be happening!" At that moment she felt a soft but strong tug on her wrist, and realized a padded cuff on her good arm was holding her to the berth. So she really was a prisoner now then? No need to pretend otherwise if she had nowhere else to go, she supposed.

"There's still something to fight for! Starscream is still out there, and he's-"

"And what will I fight him as? An _Autobot?_ Being stripped of my rank doesn't make me one of you. Your pathetic cause is the reason we've lost everything!" Slipstream snarled, digging deep into the hatred that had kept her going for millions of years to keep the fire of her present anger burning. That blow seemed to land, as Windblade knit her brows in fury to match.

"Decepticons started the war! Megatron slaughtered the council before we could even attempt a peaceful change!" She shot back, recalling the day Megatron had stormed the chambers and gutted every bot that had held society back for so long. The absurdity of the statement drew a bitter laugh from her despite the pain it caused in her injury. Was this femme even hearing herself?

"Peaceful? Do you really think they would have ever given up power while they still had sparks?" She sneered, remembering how certain she had been on that day that the war was soon to end. Without opposition, Megatron could have secured power and finished off the remaining heads of state standing in his way. But the Autobots had stepped forth to fight purely on the grounds of morality, claiming that the ends didn't justify the means and the system they wanted would result in needless cruelty... "That's the fatal flaw with Autobots; all of you want to believe everything can be solved with _compassion_ and _sharing_. That's why nothing you build could ever last! The moment somebot who doesn't play by your little rules comes by, everything falls apart and we all go back to the beggining! Decepticons are going to build a society that will _last_. It may not be as touchy feely as you want, but when times get hard, at least we know Functionalism will never return."

Windblade looked ready to argue, then shook her head with a sound of absolute frustration and threw her hands up in exasperation. The sight would have been comical, were it not so infuriating. "Except no one will be building anything if Starscream gets his way! You understood that the night you came to me!"

"I was a _fool_-!" Slipstream began, determined to make it clear she saw nothing heroic about being stabbed in the back while looking for an audience like a frightened lunatic.

"No you weren't!" Windblade roared with enough ferocity to shut her up, the Cityspeaker holding her wings high and looming over the bed with a kind of divine fury. "You were doing what Autobots do, looking at the big picture! You didn't care about sides, you cared about there being a tomorrow for our people! And when you came to me for help, you didn't see an Autobot, you saw a Cybertronian, same as you, who could_ help_ you! And I did!"

The words cut her like a blade, and she hated that she didn't know _why. _The anger within her seemed to fizzle, and she was left shaking as she tried to reignite it. Without it, all that remained in her spark was fear; fear of the terrible unknown future that loomed ahead of her, and she refused to let it take hold. "What good does that do me now? Look where my selflessness got me!"

"It's the reason you're alive!" Windblade countered without hesitation, gutting what remained of her defenses and leaving her exposed to the other femmes argument. The determination in her optics was like nothing Slipstream had ever seen. This was a bot who would look Unicron in the face without withering, and it was almost frightening in and of itself. "It gave you a chance to live, it may be the reason we're _all_ still alive, because you took a chance for the sake of _everyone_!"

For a long moment there was silence save for the slightly labored vents of two bots at their limits. Slipstream was near shaken, her mask of hate cracked to let the vulnerabilities come to the surface. She hated it. Windblade was right; she'd taken that risk because at that moment, she'd believed in something greater than any war or civilization; the shared survival of their people. Had she not, she would have kept trying to get back to a Decepticon, and likely would have been executed without hope of medical intervention. It was her own fault she was here, and it was undoubtedly the most beneficial course of action for her. The thought was as sobering as it was depressing. This was truly the best path fate had to give her; broken and disowned on an Autobot ship.

"Why are you so determined to refuse me peace?" She croaked, her words without venom as a profound weakness had taken her over. Without anger, all she had left was the emptiness of abandonment. Windblade sighed, looking equally weary but remaining on her pedes as she put a hand to her temple ridges and spoke much more softly.

"We fought so many times... I tried to kill you, and you me. It's impossible not to learn about somebot while you're that close. All that time I saw a bot who refused to relent to anything. No matter how hard I pushed, you always found a way to push back, sometimes with strength that surprised me." She explained, surprising Slipstream with how genuine the praise sounded. Through their many battles Windblade had always been a thorn in her side, and unlike most Decepticons, that anger and hate had developed a modicum of respect. It was impossible to see another thwart you so many times and not feel a little impressed by their ability to do so. She would have never guessed Windblade felt the same though...

A firm hand on her good wrist surprised her, and she watched stupefied as their optics locked and Windblade looked at her as if she was swearing an oath to Primus. "I'm not going to let the universe lose out on that strength just because the Decepticons can't recognize it. You don't get to give up under my watch."

Slipstream laughed again, weak this time and full of uncertainty. What she was seeing was madness. How could any one bot do such a heel face turn and still be in touch with reality? "You really are insane... Primus, it seems I chose my enemy well..."

"We're not enemies anymore. You may not be an Autobot, but you're not a Decepticon." Windblade reminded, hitting a chord so deep her spark flared and she felt the sting of an emotion she couldn't identify. Biting her lip, she looked away, refusing to let herself show weakness.

"Then what am I? I refuse to be Neutral." She croaked, hating how tears blurred her vision despite all her internal protests.

"You're Slipstream. And right now you're leading the cause to stop a power mad maniac from killing us all." Windblade assured, tone that of one soldier supporting another. Within her, Slipstream felt a small fraction of her emptiness fill. The great unknown of the future was still there, but she had a foothold now, a reason to lift her helm in the morning and get to work. Starscream was the entire reason she was here to begin with. Revenge was certainly a goal she could put herself towards even with her world shaken, as the Decepticon ways weren't as easily removed as the insignia.

"It's something, I suppose..." She replied, affirming her agreement with a nod. Windblade visibly relaxed, shoulders and wings losing their tension and a sigh escaping her vents. Clearly she had been hanging on for that answer for quite some time.

"Good... great." She said with a sigh, still venting a little fast from the intensity of their argument. Slipstream felt more exhausted than she ever had after any of their fights. It was as if her old foundation had been rocked and shaken to pieces, but then... fixed, in a small way, giving her something to stand on. However, the restraint on her wrist put a bit of a damper on any hope of a new lease on life.

"Will I... at least have freedom to move?" Slipstream asked, giving a light tug on the cuff. It was hardly tight or uncomfortable, but the principle of not being able to go where she wished was not something she wanted to debate.

"After yesterday, you were... put on standard medical protocol for self injury. Once a day passes it will be taken off." Windblade replied, visibly uncomfortable and repeating the words with a tone that suggested they weren't her own. She switched to something far more personable and less mechanical as she continued. "Ratchet isn't worried about repeats. He and I both know you were just scared."

While relieved that she wouldn't be like this long, she huffed in automatic displeasure at the accusation. Decepticon culture taught one not to take calls of cowardice lying down. "I wasn't _scared_-"

"Yes, you were. You were terrified." Windblade interrupted, cementing the lack of room for argument by going so far as to _take her hand_. Shocked by the gesture more than anything else, Slipstream went absolutely mum, paralyzed by a show of intimacy that may have been common to Autobots but had become absolutely foreign to her. Windblade was calm and nonaccusatory, her face similar to the night she'd saved her as she took a vent before speaking again.

"And so was I."

"Why would you have been afraid?" Slipstream asked, regaining speech as her hand was released and still too gobsmacked to so much as mention it. There was a brief delay before Windblade flashed her optics over the surgical mesh on her chest, then folded her hands together over her spark, reflecting on the dark and recent memory.

"You were hurting yourself. For a moment I was worried it'd be bad enough that we'd lose you. There was energon everywhere..." She pulled her hands apart and looked at them, and Slipstream was reminded of how she'd held her even as the bleeding energon slicked her grip and stained them both. The memory gave her new feelings now, ones she again couldn't understand, no matter how much she wanted to. Windblade sighed and dropped her palms, a tired smile replacing the thoughtful frown. "I'm tired of losing things. I want you to stick around."

"I don't know what to make of you." Slipstream replied in a quiet chuckle, so confounded she could only laugh. A small part of her actually understood this time though. How long had they been fighting and dying and bleeding all for scraps, with their pool of allies shrinking all the while? To say that you could gain something, anything, was a blessing beyond all others. What exactly Windblade hoped to gain from her however, was beyond her.

"I'll take that as another compliment." She replied, a look of something like hope in her optics. Before things could get too sappy, Slipstream looked away.

"If you wish." She said, not so much prickly as she was matter of fact. "I'll... I'll need to regain my strength to get back to where I was. I imagine your medic can still fix me?"

"Of course. He'll be grumpy about it, but he's already got a plan." Windblade assured, comforting her with the possibility of soon being able to at least walk about and perform some tasks independently. Having the ability to work without being so confined would go a long way to allowing her to focus on this strange new life. Not an Autobot or a Decepticon, and certainly not a Neutral, but just... here, working towards a goal. It was a start.

"Good. We can continue our search efforts as well. Starscream has attacked once, he shall do so again." Slipstream replied, back to business despite feeling quite worn out by the entire affair. She felt better, but at the cost of what little energy she had, and she still had a long way to go. Rest sounded quite appealing at that moment.

"After you and I have had some recharge. It's not exactly daylight right now." Windblade replied, calling attention to the hour she couldn't quite identify. Without the aid of daylight it was near impossible to guess, but as tired as she was, it was certainly easy to believe waking hours were far away.

"I'm more than alright with some rest." She said, letting out a small sigh as her body settled a little more deeply onto the berth. Windblade stood upright and stretched, possibly having been on vigil for hours without a break. The dedication was... interesting, to say the least.

"Ratchet will probably wake you and get you up to speed on a recovery plan. I'll hit my berth in the meanwhile."

"Of course. I shall see you then..." Slipstream replied, laying back and listening to the other femme walk away. A strange kind of pull in her spark tugged an impulse she wasn't familiar with to the surface, her still unfilled hollowness calling out for a different kind of satisfaction that she was unprepared to deny.

"Windblade?" She called out, words tumbling forth without control as the other femme stopped in her tracks and turned on the spot, expression one of somewhat alarmed curiosity. For a moment there was nothing but terribly awkward silence as her voice box froze up, the terrible embarrassment of how she must have looked holding her back before the words she just needed to get out escaped in a barely audible mumble.

"Thank you..."

Windblade lit up like a beacon, doing nothing to quell her rapidly rising blush and warring emotions of foolishness and satisfaction. Some urge she couldn't identify had forced her to speak, but all the emotions she did recognize only berated her endlessly for the silly outburst. Her former enemy was smiling like the sun as she replied with a sparkfelt nod.

"You're welcome."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slipstream is allergic to emotion don't judge her too hard


	8. Shared Ache

For the hundredth time, Slipstream scanned the world map for any sign of something she'd missed, hoping that this look over would be the one that jogged her memory and gave her the critical piece she'd been missing.

As with the ninety nine previous attempts, it didn't, and she was left right where she'd begun.

Huffing in frustration, she gave the holographic world map a spin, watching the planet hurdle on its axis before settling to a disappointing halt. She was completely devoid of ideas. Every single location she'd postulated as a potential hiding spot for Starscream had turned up nothing. At most, the Autobot scouts had found very recent signs of scavenging, but no trace of the Allspark or its new cult. It was infuriating.

"It's like he's _teleporting_..." She called out, unable to figure out any other explanation for such a group being everywhere and nowhere. Windblade looked up from the pile of data pads she was sitting beside on the berth next to her; each containing a detailed scouting report from the locations that had been checked. Looking just as tired as Slipstream felt, she leaned her forehelm into her hand to reply half sparkedly.

"The groundbridge network is a possibility."

"I thought only Cheetor could control them? Wasn't that what he was made for?" Slipstream replied, having considered the idea but put it aside because it didn't match what little information they had on the subject. While she had to give Cheetor the benefit of any doubt for the help he'd given saving her life, his explanations for the Allspark and its powers often bordered on... confounding.

"Maybe Starscream has figured it out? Acid Storm is no Shockwave, but she's brought them this far." Windblade replied back, holding up multiple data pads to try and find relevant information. Like Slipstream, she was clearly getting to the point where all she could do was go back over old data and try to find missed details.

"Primus, wouldn't that be just what we need..." Slipstream said with a shudder, knowing that their situation would become even harder if their enemy could jump across the planet at will. Starscream certainly had a habit of knowing just how to make himself an even bigger pain.

"The whole ship is following all the leads you and I have thought up in addition to standard protocols. Grimlock is monitoring communications right now, and Bee and Hot Rod are patrolling our perimeter, so a sneak attack is unlikely." Windblade assured, listing the extra tasks that had been assigned to that head bots in the meanwhile. With Decepticon activity so low, likely because they were also hard at work on their own search, everyone had been able to put all their focus on Starscream. It helped her a little, to have so much work to do. Even the pressure was helping to keep her focused on the present, so her new state of living had little time to bother her. But a total lack of any activity was only making things frustrating...

"Windblade!"

The doors flew open and a fire painted blur rushed inside, scaring both femmes so badly that Windblade sent a horde of data pads clattering to the floor while Slipstream accidentally hit her console and sent it into a fritz.

"Sorry, didn't mean to give you a jumpstart! But Bee and Cheetor saw Starscream! They even captured one of his creepy pet things! They're about to brief everyone on the bridge so let's go!" Hot Rod said in a rush, dumping so much information on them that all they could do was look at each other before Windblade stood amongst her mess of data pads.

"Uh, alright, I'm coming! Oh-" Windblade replied, still processing the tidal wave of information before she stopped right in front of her. Slipstream watched a little helplessly, desperate for the new information but stuck where she was. Ratchet had assured her she'd be up and walking soon, but at the moment she was still on mandatory rest, and couldn't follow. Windblade looked thoughtful for a moment, then lit up and put a hand to her comm.

"Here, my comm frequency. You can listen in and ask questions through me." She said, pinging her with the channel as she accepted it. The gesture required more trust than it would have seemed, as it gave Slipstream the chance to contact her at any time and potentially trace her if need be. At that moment though, all she cared about was being included, and she nodded in acceptance to let the other femme hurry off. It seemed she'd meant it before, when she'd said that she'd ensure she was never left out again.

A few moments after their footsteps dissapeared down the hall, she was already beset by impatience. Being stuck on the berth had been growing even more infuriating by the hour, and she found that even the promise of inclusion wasn't enough to satiate her desire to just get up and _walk_. While she wouldn't dare repeat the attempt to flee that had pushed back her progress, she couldn't guarantee she'd be able to avoid doing anything impulsive for much longer. If only she could be a little more useful...

The pinging of her comm unit was like a heaven sent relief. Accepting the broadcast, she heard the din of an open line, telling her Windblade was using an open line to ensure she heard everything in the room.

"Alright, I got Windblade!" Hot Rod blurted out, indicating to her that he was more excited than anything else. That boded well, she thought...

"I have Slipstream on my line as well. Any questions she has will come through me." Windblade announced, surprising her with how candid she was. No one argued the inclusion either, with Hot Rod only jumping in again to give an excited bit of encouragement.

"Give us the rundown Bee!"

Bumblebee immediately launched into an upbeat and excited story of how he and Cheetor had been practicing Autobot Scout skills when they were ambushed and chased through a series of groundbridges before being overwhelmed and captured. Slipstream was thankful no one was present to see her expressions shift in horror, particularly as Bumblebees described them waking in a cave with high end medical technology and Starscream feeding a Decepticon corpse to his pets. Such machinery could have only come from the Nemesis itself, and and the body spoke to a level of disgusting brutality she'd expected but was still concerned to see come to fruition. The core of her spark trembled with fear like it hadn't since she'd seen his madness in person when Bumblebee described the attempt to extract his spark and implant it within one of the creatures.

_Primus, he's gotten _**_worse_**....

Even more troubling was the confirmation that Starscream did indeed have some control over the groundbridges, even if Cheetor seemed to be able to beat him out when the Allspark wasn't present. Everything about the story was a nightmare that confirmed the worst of her fears, and like before, it seemed he was only thwarted by luck.

Further horror gripped her when Cheetor proudly announced he'd captured one of Starscreams twisted creations and presently had it on the ship _alive_. Wheeljack, the Autobot scientist, reacted with joy when he heard the news, going on about the benefits of live study before his voice faded off. Clearly he was already prepared for experiments. Slipstream knew she wouldn't be recharging easily that night, or any night that following for that matter. In fact, even without having a monster in the ship, she doubted she'd be resting any time soon. Starscream had just caught them off guard, _again_, and was clearly willing to use more and more horrendous methods to consolidate his power. She needed to step up her game.

"I'll head back to Slipstream. She and I have a lot to discuss." Windblade announced, marking the end of the briefing. Slipstream pushed herself a little further up the berth, wincing at the small bursts of pain but refusing to let herself look slouched. The moment Windblade returned she was going to make a proposal, and she had to look as strong and capable as possible to make it work. Watching the door like a Predacon watching prey, she counted the moments until the other femmes return, her body brewing with the kind of determination that only came from fear. By the time the doors opened she was practically twitching in her spot.

"Primus, this gives us a lot of new material to work with." Windblade announced, looking weary from the wave of information in the briefing but not at all as disturbed as she should have been.

"I need to see your medic." Slipstream blurted, not having the slightest bit of desire to wait or play out civilities. Windblade froze and her optics went wide for only a moment before she was at her berthside in a panic.

"Are you hurt?"

Slipstream held up her hand to silence the tirade before it could begin, giving her speech with as much determination as she could pack into every word. "I need to _walk_. Starscream is stepping up his tactics; getting more unhinged. I can't be at my best on this berth. I need to be up and moving, and I need access to the ship so I can help bolster the defenses to the best of my ability."

"Oh..." Windblade replied, looking a little blindsided before her expression shifted to uncertainty. Pondering the idea for a moment, she replied evenly, sounding neither enthused or opposed. "If Ratchet says you're ready, we can try. But we're not pushing anything."

"Then get him in here. Starscream isn't getting any saner." She said firmly, not rude but also not willing to accept any arguments. Windblade nodded, looking oddly nervous as she called the medic in and explained that there was no emergency but he was needed for a consultation. Thankfully there was no argument from the other end, and he was close and free. In less than a few minutes his familiar color came in with an expression of calm.

"Do you have questions?" Ratchet asked, likely happy that he was being consulted for a change before a bot did something impulsive. Slipstream kept her upright posture to look as strong as possible.

"I want off this berth. As soon as physically possible." She demanded, flinching when the request brought out a sigh and a pinch of his noseridge. A lecture wasn't something she had the energy for at the moment.

"I had a feeling you'd be reaching this stage soon. You'd already be walking if you hadn't backtracked..." He admonished, making her frown before Windblade jumped in to stop him.

"The past is past, Ratchet. Can you get her walking now?" She said, making Slipstream feel a genuine gratitude she didn't often indulge in.

Sighing, Ratchet stroked his chin thoughtfully, approaching the berth to check the many monitors he had keeping track of diagnostics she couldn't read. Pondering the readout for a moment, he looked off like they weren't in the room, coming to his conclusion before voicing whatever it was he'd been pondering.

"My primary concern is your neural net. It suffered a lot of damage at a critical juncture, and we'll need to be careful to keep stress on the repairs at a minimum." He said, speaking slowly to keep his thoughts organized and his tone even. There was no worry in his voice, but she wouldn't have expected any even if there was something wrong. The medic was good at keeping his emotions in check.

"I'll take whatever pace necessary. I just need to be able to move around the ship." She assured, knowing there would be pain but well accustomed to it by now. If every move was going to hurt anyway, why not get something out of it? There was a look of thoughtfulness in his optics before he replied.

"Pace isn't the issue. Your biggest aid will be ensuring that strain is introduced slowly, and that you don't have to deal with your full weight at once. You'll need assistance." Ratchet explained, making her feel a pang of worry for the first time. Just the word _assistance_ didn't bode well for her comfort, and the medics constant care was already pushing her to her limit in the privacy of the medical bay. Anything more public would be absolutely humiliating. Even if she was no longer a Decepticon by affiliation, all her time in their ranks had left its mark on her, and it wasn't easy to shake the idea that needing help only made one a target.

"Like... a brace?" Slipstream offered, hoping to take the lesser of two evils. While a visible show of independent weakness would be less than ideal, it'd be far preferable to needing help from another. Having to rely on a bot for something as basic as movement made you impossibly vulnerable to them. Ratchet, with his peerless ability to read discomfort, corrected her with what she'd least been hoping to hear.

"Like another bot. Ideally one consistent volunteer so you could become accustomed to each other."

Slipstream almost shrank in the berth. Having her worst fears confirmed made her imagination go wild on the worries that had already been rising to the surface, and the very thought of being so reliant on another bot made her almost ill. It would make her appear helpless, weak, and incapable to any who saw her, and therefore open to attack. Not to mention that trusting another bot to physically support her sounded harrowing. Who could she possibly allow to get so close to her while she was so helpless? No doubt many of the Arks residents had scores to settle, and her back would be very open for yet another stabbing...

"I'd be willing. We're already working together." Windblade spoke up, stepping forward to make the offer and compounding her discomfort. Looking over to the other femme, she debated tossing the idea out right there. Despite their working relationship, she was hardly friends with Windblade, and the emotions she felt for their strange standing were already far too uncomfortable. Relying on her for something like this would surely be too strange.

"Is there... no other option?" She asked, hoping perhaps Ratchet had forgotten some other method that would come to him at the last moment. A surgery, or perhaps some strange device from their engineer to make her weightless... anything but this.

"This is the best start to getting you what you want while balancing your recovery needs. If you want to walk now and still return to full functionality, this is what needs to happen." Ratchet advised, shutting down her hopes swiftly. The dual needs to get her work done and exist with some shred of dignity were warring inside of her. The very thought of leaning on Windblade just to accomplish day to day tasks was as humiliating as it was excruciatingly uncomfortable, but the idea of just sitting on the accursed berth as precious minutes ticked by without progress was equally torturous. As seemed to be happening so often lately, she was trapped. But as always, her indomitable ability to overcome and take it on the chin rose up, and she pushed past all of her discomfort for her own greater good.

"How do we begin?" Slipstream sighed, optics downcast in numb acceptance. This would be awful, but it was better than laying down and dying.

"We'll have to begin with simple stretches and tests to get your hydraulics moving again. Once you're off the berth and I'm satisfied you can handle the strain, the two of you can practice here in the medical bay then go out into the ship. Of course, I'll have to monitor everything, and you'll have to stay on a limited schedule until approved for further movement." Ratchet explained, sounding like he was talking and making mental notes of everything at the same time by halting at intervals to thoughtfully stroke his chin. Nodding along, Slipstream tried not to preemptively shudder at what awaited her. Living beneath a medical microscope would put any bot on edge.

"Alright... _when _can we begin?" She replied, part of her wanting to just take the dive and get the worst parts over with.

"Let me do a quick test. If everything is stable enough, we could at least get you off the berth for a few minutes now. Assuming you're ready."

"I am."

Ratchet paused instead of going straight to the scanner. Looking between them, he spoke in a more serious tone than before, almost like giving a final warning. "Fair warning to you both, this isn't gonna be easy. There'll be pain, a lot of it. I'll do what I can, of course, but you're going to be hurting during and after this."

"I'll take pain over inaction any day." Slipstream replied easily, internally hesitant about the thought of more discomfort but quite capable of pushing it down. Truthfully, she was more concerned about showing pain than feeling it, even if she was quite confident she could keep a lid on any outbursts before they happened. If she at least appeared in control, it would lessen the blow to her dignity.

"I'm ready too, if you're okay with me helping." Windblade offered, standing just out of range of the scanner as it began to work. Sighing, Slipstream sat still beneath the green light. There were many things she wanted to say to that. First was that, even with everything that had happened recently, she still wasn't quite over their history. That made trusting her completely a little difficult. It was impossible not to imagine she was playing the long game; waiting for a perfect opportunity like this one to strike for revenge despite everything she'd offered. But that was probably just the Decepticon talking. Second was that their current status was a strange and unusual beast, making this turn of events just further fuel for her confusion...

"Of all the bots on this ship, you do seem least likely to drop me." Was all she managed to say, dry wit hiding most of her true reservations. At least it wasn't a lie.

As soon as the scanner finished its work and the results popped up on a monitor, Ratchet was pouring over them, flipping through the readouts and nodding in thought before announcing his thoughts. "Your neural net is receptive enough for movement, and the new surgical mesh should hold and allow just enough flexibility for a test run. We're going to have to take it very slow though. I don't suppose anyone is going to be busy?"

"No. Please, let's just begin." Slipstream replied, suddenly thinking back to her outburst and the damage it had done to her surgical mesh. The way she'd cracked open and bled... Even if the memory was a blur, she didn't want to repeat any of it, and hoped the medic had considered that aspect. Of course, her movements during said outburst had been a little... frantic, compared to what they'd likely be doing now.

"I'm ready to help however I can." Windblade offered, looking determined but uncertain as to exactly what she could do.

"Before you can stand, you'll need to sit up. You remember the excercises we've done?" Ratchet asked, clearing a space by the berth and drawing her back to the awful stretches after her first surgery. How could she forget? The pain of sitting up and feeling how her body had struggled to the core just to accomplish something so simple... Well, if she'd done it once, she could do it again.

"Yes. I can accomplish that much on my own-"

"Ah ah, assistance, remember? You're not doing anything without support. Windblade, watch what I do, you'll need to know how to keep weight off critical joints." Ratchet interrupted, making her huff in the first of what would probably be many dissapointments. Allowing him to take hold of her shoulders, she braced herself for the process of sitting up, remembering all too well what had happened the last time she'd tried... Gritting her dentae as she began to rise, she kept any other reactions to a minimum as she began to move and the pain of her injury protested as it always did. Trying to keep her face neutral, she allowed Ratchet to help her set the pace, her body rising to an upright seated position with a fresh ache from her back to mark the transition.

"Are you okay?" Windblade asked, making her curse her obvious fail to hide the extent of her discomfort.

"_Fine_." Slipstream clipped, hoping the aggression in her voice would both mark her strength and her lack of patience for nannying. Ratchet didn't even notice; keeping his hands on her shoulders to ensure she stayed upright.

"Now let's stay like this for a klik. Really take those vents to get the full stretch." He advised, voice thankfully devoid of any unnecessary patronizing. Following his guidance, she closed her optics and allowed deep vents to cycle through her systems, marveling a little at her body despite the pain. The impalement had left a very clear trail through her chest that she could feel with every expansion of her vents. Even without seeing it, she knew that the damage she was living around was massive, and that her survival truly was a feat of incredible luck and strength. "Try moving your lower body on the berth."

Looking down at herself, she moved her legs with calm intent for the first time since becoming bedridden, briefly wondering why she'd been so avoidant to stretching them before a sharp stab of pain answered the question.

"I was stabbed in the back, why do my _legs_ hurt?!" She gasped, reeling from a hot, electric zap of agony that seemed to travel all the way from her pedes to her waist.

"Neural net is repairing itself; reconnecting with damaged fibers. Movement triggers a lot of it to jumpstart." Ratchet explained, keeping her steady as she grappled with the leftover tingling that the ache left in its wake. Windblade once again brought back her expression of worry, her hand reaching out helplessly as she tried to suggest an easy out.

"Maybe we should hold off on the next part-"

"I can do this. Just... need my legs on the floor." Slipstream said, less of a snap and more desperate just to get moving. This pain hadn't been as present when she'd made her mad dash to escape. Perhaps the rush of panic had shielded her from it then, and she rather wished it would do the same now...

"Windblade, this is where you come in. Take your place on her other side." Ratchet said, allowing her to continue. Obviously uncertain but determined to help, Windblade took a spot just beside her, and Slipstream grit her dentae as she forced her legs to slid to the edge of the berth and over. There were no words exchanged as she was gently guided to the proper position, Windblade on her right and Ratchet at her left as she was secured between them. Taking a few more vents to calm the pain that was already breaking past her barriers, she tried to remain strong, reminding herself what was at stake if she failed to regain full functionality in time.

With a final bracing of her already wracked body, she set her pedes to the floor, and allowed herself to support her own weight.

Hot, fiery, electric pain like she'd never known stormed up her legs and into her spinal strut. Arching at the agony, she clung to the bots on either side of her with a hiss of pain, her wound pulsing with fresh aches. Shaking, she tried to get a grip on herself, venting as she'd been shown to soothe herself. Primus, how like the medic to undersell something. This wasn't just painful, this was _excruciating_. Ever fiber in her lower body was burning as her self repair protocols surged into action, making her wonder if she even had the ability to handle a step.

"If this is too much, we can stop." Windblade advised at her side, optics betraying deep worry as she held her up. Despite it all, the concern was just the motivation she needed to get going.

"I'm... fine..." Slipstream gasped, reaffirming her grip on the other two. No amount of weakness was going to stop her, to make her look helpless. Setting her jaw, she took her first step, a traitorous sound of pain passing her vocalizer before she clamped down on it. Every beat of her pump seemed to fill her with new agony; the veins in her lower body throbbing as the damaged nerve fibers forged new connections with every passing moment. Nothing had ever hurt like this. Even her near death injury had at least clouded her processor from feeling the full brunt of things, now she was awake and every agonizing jolt was felt with perfect clarity. Still, she pushed on. Growling in determination, she took her second step, sweating and shaking already from the unimaginable effort.

"Please, if you're hurting-"

"Slipstream will determine when this ends. We'll continue to provide support." Ratchet said, cutting Windblade off. Far too focused to really hear either of them or care about their input, Slipstream only forced her leg to swing forward for another step, a thin layer of coolant building on her helm just from the effort she'd expended already. Hating the struggle, she used her absolute defiance as fuel. Grunting in effort, she glared at the wall opposite her, making it her goal. Getting that far would prove something to herself. Forcing her aching, trembling legs to scrape forward for every pathetic step, she fought back the further encroaching agony every second. Despite all her hopes, it was only getting worse. But she had to beat it! All she had to do was walk to a stupid wall, putting one step forward until she was there. No injury would so debase her while she still had the will to fight! She could do this, even as the agony made her vision blur and her body tremble... She could do this, even as coolant began to drop down her armor from the exertion... She could do this, she had to, even as the pain rose up her body like fire and sapped the energy from her...

She couldn't. It was too much. The agony of bearing weight was like dipping herself in magma times a thousand, and she couldn't possibly bare it any more. Going limp betwixt the two other bots, she trembled in their grip, the fight leaving her in a rush.

"I can't... I can't... please, I have to stop." She begged, far too gone to care about pride. Though they had every right to be furious with her in her mind, the other two bots supported her without complaint.

"Back on the berth. Keep her weight off the floor completely. Slowly, no need to panic." Ratchet advised, leading the effort to turn them around and get her back to where they'd started. Optics closed and dentae set hard enough to hurt, she let herself be maneuvered like a doll, too preoccupied to be ashamed. Even without the strain of her own weight, everything still ached. Laying back on the berth, her hands immediately grabbed the edges to dig in, her body shaking hard enough to rattle her armor.

"Slipstream?" Windblade asked, encouraging her to crack open her optics. As before, the other femme was the picture of worry, but for once it didn't bother her. In her haze of hot agony, it almost felt a little comforting, knowing her trials were appreciated...

"Pit, this _hurts_..." She croaked, communicating her agony the only way she knew how. Shaking still, she didn't fight when Windblade placed a reassuring hand on her wing. Every part of her was drained and hurting, all from the simple effort of standing and walking a few steps. If anybot or anything could take that pain away, she'd have happily accepted any conditions they offered. Primus, it wasn't even getting better, it was just this endless plateau of pain that refused to let her know peace...

"I'm going to do what I can, but recovering fibers are tough to soothe. Less technological approaches will be to your best benefit." Ratchet advised, grabbing what looked like a heating blanket from one of his kits and starting it up. Slipstream didn't complain as the warm folds were draped over her legs. While the comfort she felt was minor, it was more than appreciated, and her shaking faded to a light tremble as she settled back on the berth. Far too exhausted to care about anything else, she barely heard the medic continue. "You can head out for now, Windblade. She's going to need nothing but rest for a while."

There was a pause, then the comforting hand on her wing dropped to her wrist. Looking up, she saw a war of emotions in the other femmes optics, worry and grief among the most prominent. "Please, promise me you won't push yourself, okay?"

Slipstream only nodded, suddenly quite unconcerned about how she appeared. Pain had a wonderful way of clarifying things... Taking hold of her exhaustion, she tried to force herself into the bliss of recharge, hoping to escape her broken body the only way she could.


	9. Focused Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With quarantine I finally have time to write again!

"Windblade, come on, you've hardly touched anything."

Barely hearing Bumblebee, Windblade only gave the square crystals on her tray an idle flick, watching the orange cubes roll before they settled once more. While ordinarily she liked her corundum well enough and she was due for the fuel, she felt as far away from hungry as a bot could be. A kind of anxious weight seemed to have settled over inch of her body, weighing her down and refusing to let her know peace. It was like everything was tainted by what she'd seen that afternoon.

"Bumblebee is right, my friend. You haven't eaten nearly enough to keep your strength up. Would you like some of mine instead?" Grimlock offered, pushing his tray and it's considerably greater spread of fuel towards her. The gesture brought out a polite smile, but she shook her helm.

"No, thank you both, but I..." Fading out, she wondered why she'd even bothered to come to the cafeteria if no part of her felt like eating. All she could think about was watching Slipstream earlier; her strong demeanor crumbling under the agony of her wounds and draining her until she'd been unable to even attempt to walk further. The pain and fear on her face was still so clear in her memory. In fact, every detail about what she'd seen was burned into her, particularly the image of the agony wracked femme trembling on the berth as her body tried in desperation to repair the damage that had almost killed her. It haunted her for reasons she didn't fully understand. "I don't have much of an appetite."

"I know you said things didn't go well with Slipstream earlier, but was it really that bad?" Bumblebee asked, sounding concerned both for her and the bot she'd dedicated herself to working with. Even if he didn't quite feel the same way she did about the femme who'd made multiple attempts to kill his friend, Windblade knew he was well aware of how important this was to her, and that his own compassionate nature didn't like seeing any bot in pain either.

"Indeed, perhaps if you discuss what occured, you will feel more at ease." Grimlock concured, eager to help along with Bumblebee. Grateful for their offer, she considered it for a moment. There were indeed far too many emotions clogging up her brain module for her to have any hope of processing what she'd seen. Maybe just giving a brief synopsis of what had happened would allow her to feel better, if only so the others could assure her whatever fears she had needn't be a concern while she had their support.

"After your briefing this morning, Slipstream decided she was ready to try to walk." Windblade said, keeping some of the details to herself regarding the nature of the inciting moment. Indeed, Slipstream had seemed more determined than she'd ever seen her, her usual stubbornness doubled in the wake of Starscreams ever increasing boldness. Which was understandable, of course. Even predictable, given everything she knew about her personality now.

"That's good though, right?" Bumblebee asked, innocent to the aspects of Slipstreams temperament and condition that complicated things.

Windblade tried to think back on how Ratchet had described the process of improving; excercising the damaged sensory fibers and encouraging them to begin reforming broken connections... It sounded so simple. Perhaps Slipstream, like herself, hadn't truly understood what she'd be getting into. "I think she wanted to be up and helping more than anything. She's determined to do everything she can to stop Starscream."

"Decepticon stubbornness used for good, surely that is a momentous achievement in itself." Grimlock said, matching Bumblebee in his attempts to sound positive.

"It's not... she's still hurt so bad, but Ratchet decided to give her a chance to try. He warned it would be tough, but she said she was ready, so we helped her up and..."

Windblade couldn't stop a wince at the memory. Slipstream hadn't looked like that since the night she'd been rescued, and then there had been a great, gaping hole in her chest. Even without external injuries, she'd trembled like she had on the operating table, brain module so clouded with pain she hadn't even cared about her usual pride. Primus, she had done so well avoiding that memory until now... But with this new occurrence, it seemed the two images were playing off each other in her mind, digging into her with what she finally identified as guilt. Why did seeing Slipstream like this just... destroy her?

"I've never seen a bot hurt like that. Just a few moments in and she was done... The pain almost dropped her where she stood."

"But she was able to try because you helped!" Bumblebee interjected, his hand on her shoulder and his optics pleading. Seeing her suffer was hurting him, but she couldn't shake this. If anything, she was just digging herself deeper, but getting closer to some kind of truth.

"You don't understand... seeing her like that... it didn't feel right." She said, trying to mull over the complicated storm of unpleasant feelings broiling inside of her. It didn't matter if the femme in question had once been her enemy, she'd made an effort to see the big picture and then some, and in that moment she'd been so desperately clawing towards something better for herself...

"Your discomfort is more than understandable, but you must realize you hold no blame for this, yes? You're doing all you can to assist a former enemy; a most noble endeavor!" Grimlock encouraged, matching Bumblebee with a growing sense of begging in his voice. Neither mech understood what she was feeling, but then, neither did she. At least, not completely, save for the pieces that were falling into place.

"Isn't it my fault?" She said, realization dawning.

"How could it be-"

The words tumbled out as the source of her guilt was finally unearthed. Everything she felt with Slipstream did indeed go beyond the normal compassion she felt for injured bots, and she finally understood why. "I'm the one who turned my back. If I'd just been more alert, she wouldn't have been ambushed, and _none_ of this would be happening."

"Perhaps it could have been _worse_, you could hardly be expected to predict an attempted execution during a ceasefire!" Grimlock said as Bumblebee put a hand on her shoulder, their combined efforts at comfort barely reaching her perception.

"She came to me for help. That night she was scared and desperate for somebot to listen, and I was so focused on relaying the information-"

"Like you were supposed to! That information needed to get to the bots in charge, and some crazy Decepticon was the only reason it went wrong!" Bumblebee interjected, stopping her words but not her thoughts. The events of those few, fateful moments were playing in an agonizing loop, highlighting every mistake she'd made. There'd been so much frustration that day, could that have been why her first move had been to alert their leaders instead of offering aid? Slipstream had stood before her in obvious pain; injured and weakened from a considerable ordeal, to say nothing of her almost tangible fear. Why hadn't she just kept her focus on her for a few moments longer?

If she had, Bludgeon might not have been able to take her by surprise...

"I can't stop feeling like I'm failing her. She's getting better, she has the opportunity to really change, and I'm not doing everything I can..." She said at last, the unearthed guilt within her twisting into demands. There was a terrible need within her to do more, but also a total loss as to what that could look like, which left her feeling painfully inadequate. Here was a femme trying to improve, something she'd always wanted to see, and yet she wasn't even giving everything to see it happen. No wonder she felt this way...

"Windblade..."

The friendly voice was too much. No part of her felt like taking part in gentle comfort she didn't deserve or wasting any further time. There was only one place she needed to be in that moment. Pushing the tray in, she stood up from the table in a rush, heedless to any attempts to stop her.

"I think I just need some time alone. Put mine back into the repository, I didn't touch it."

Ignoring the calls for her return and hopefully making it abundantly clear that she didn't want to debate further with a quick, angry gait, she left the cafeteria behind. Every part of her processor was practically alight with a feeling that stood somewhere between anger and guilt, with a healthy dose of restlessness thrown in for good measure. The silent mech who'd started it all was in her thoughts as well; Bludgeon, the swordsmaster who'd so carelessly driven his sword into what should have been Slipstreams spark... how did a bot become so cruel? Killing in the heat of battle was one thing, but an execution...

Without needing to think, she made her way to the medical bay, likely scaring off anybot who got too close with the absolute fury in her optics even though she hardly meant to take it out on anything on the Ark. The absolute savagery and unfairness of it all lit a fire in her spark. The brief duel she'd had with Bludgeon had been brutal, but he'd not said a word, and moved without a trace of guilt despite his attempted murder-

"Windblade, what are you here for?"

Ratchets voice surprised her more than she could have expected, but she managed to keep her reactions reigned in enough that she did nothing but give a little gasp when the medical bay seemed to materialize around her.

A purple form on a berth pulled her optics in. Refusing to look, she got a hold of herself and tried to look less restless than she felt, forcing something like a polite smile in the medics direction. "I just... wanted to check in. She was in bad shape when I left."

"Still is, and it's going to be that way for a while. I've supplied some special energon formulas of mine to keep her out and to promote healing, but it's all up to her body for now." Ratchet explained, his voice calm and clinical and just quiet enough to ensure the femme in question could continue what had to be a painfully light recharge. Unable to prevent herself from frowning at the news, Windblade cast a glance to the occupied berth, and saw Slipstream laying beneath a heated blanket with tubes providing the painkillers she needed in her arm. Even from a distance the tremble in her ventilations was obvious. She felt her spark dip at the sight, and Ratchet took quick notice. "Which isn't what you want to hear."

"I'm not-"

A hand went up before she could try to debate. "You want to help, I get that. Believe me, I can't count how many bots have been in my medical bay because they want to help a friend-er, associate of theirs. But fretting about isn't going to do her or you any good."

"I just feel... like I should be doing something." She replied, wings dipping as she deflated in the face of Ratchets ability to read her and expose her thoughts. To say nothing of how he hesitated on calling Slipstream a friend... was she her friend? The word was a lot looser these days, but their relationship had certainly had a trial by fire the past few cycles. That was a concern for a later time though.

"Common feeling, like I said. You've got a good spark and you don't like seeing others hurt." Ratchet assured her, bringing a tiny bit of comfort from one of his rather rare compliments. It would be nice to believe him, that her feelings were purely the result of her natural empathy, but she didn't buy that all the way. Regardless he continued. "A big help to feeling better is remembering that you didn't do this; you're not the bot that drove a sword through her back and nearly cleaved her spark in half. You're the reason she survived that."

"It was Bludgeon... how could I forget?" She replied softly. That mech seemed to be returning as the core of the issue often. But wasn't Ratchet right? He'd been the one to attack without seeking answers, probably because he couldn't have cared less if Slipstream was really a traitor. He'd wanted to kill, and had come so terribly close to succeeding... A hot bed of anger settled in the core of her spark at the thought.

"Exactly, he's the one you should plan on beating up, not yourself. But until that opportunity presents itself, what matters is her getting better. And she trusts you enough to let you help, so you won't have to worry about not having plenty productive to do in the near future." Ratchet said with a nod, reading her dramatic drop in guilt as an acceptance of his sage advice. To be fair it was, but not in the way he likely planned.

"You're right. I don't." Windblade replied, distant in that moment as something less like a plan and more like a decision formed within her buzzing processor. There was one bot to blame, one mech who had caused every bit of suffering she'd watched the other femme endure, and he'd been allowed to go without punishment for far too long. That needed to end. Casting her optics once more to the femme on the berth, she felt her determination solidify into an unbreakable force. Slipstream lay shaking in a dazed and shallow recharge, her aching body struggling to repair itself from an injury she'd received just trying to do the right thing...

That injustice needed to be righted.

Returning to his working mindset, Ratchet waved his hand to encourage her to go off. "So find something actually useful with your time until then. You could look for Wheeljack for me, he took off for an experiment and has been too busy to answer my comm, as usual..."

It was as good an excuse to leave the ship as any. She could be out before anyone realized she was gone, and it would give her a cover story if she was pressed over a communication line. There was no joy in the fake smile of assurance she gave the medic before leaving, her spark grateful for the chance to finally direct its anger somewhere productive.

"I think I'll do that. Thanks, Ratchet."


End file.
